


A Change in the Game

by kremlin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Modern AU, Multi, Office AU, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 07:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 93,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14183685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremlin/pseuds/kremlin
Summary: Inspired by 'The Hating Game' by Sally Thorne.Feyre and Lucien are colleagues who share an office and who can't stand each other.





	1. Chapter 1

Feyre let out a frustrated huff of breath, glaring at her open wardrobe. No pants. She had no damn pants left to wear for today. She had been too lazy to do laundry the last two weeks, so she’d run out of clean pants to wear for work.

She threw an accusing look at yesterday’s pants, that peeked out from her laundry basket.

Traitor. Why did you have to get dirty?

To be fair, the coffee stains on her pants were her own fault. Had she not knocked over her coffee mug, she’d would’ve had a clean pair of pants to wear for the rest of the week. But had her pants been black, then the big splotch of coffee wouldn’t have been all that noticeable.

But then again, hadn’t her hands shaken with anger because of Lucien Vanserra, she’d never have spilled her coffee in the first place.

_Lucien Vanserra._

How much she hated that guy! Feyre realized she was grinding her teeth and released the tension from her jaw. She didn’t even remember what he did to make her shake with anger badly enough to spill her drink on her pants, but it hardly mattered. There was not a single moment he didn’t do anything to aggravate her. Work had become her own personal challenge of not throttling her co-worker and get fired over it.

Feyre could picture the exact face he would make, if she came to work in dirty clothes: one auburn eyebrow raised mockingly, a malicious gleam in his one good russet eye, lips turning into a sharp, edged smile, wide enough to pull the scar that blinded his other eye and mauled part of his otherwise handsome face. The image alone had her little cauldron of Lucien-hate bubble over.

_No._ Pants weren’t an option. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of mocking her for her clothes. He already found enough things to tease her about.

Critically, she eyed her wardrobe again. She had some dresses she could wear, but Feyre cringed at the thought of showing up at work in a dress.

Dresses were - feminine. As a woman in a predominantly male-dominated corporate world, Feyre had fought long and hard to be taken seriously. For her, putting on a dress was equivalent to chipping away at part of her professional attitude and reminding her co-workers, that she was a woman. Soft, sweet - not a threat.

Feyre’s eyes went back and forth between her spotted pants and her dresses. She could try to wash out the stains, and come to work in clean, but damp pants, provided the dried coffee stain would wash out with water and soap. Or she could shave her legs and opt for a nice, clean dress and take the time it took to wash out the stain to make herself a nice, steaming mug of tea and try to calm herself, before she threw herself into today’s battle.

With a resigned sigh, Feyre pulled a dress from its hanger and scurried into the bathroom.

* * *

“Good morning, Archeron. A bit late, ar -”

Whatever barb Lucien wanted to throw at her, it got stuck in his throat at the sight of her.

Feyre raised her hand to casually fling her hair over her shoulder, only to be met with thin air. Right, she had pulled her hair into a low bun at the base of her neck. She flushed with embarrassment, but refused to acknowledge it. Instead she kept striding towards her desk, heels clicking violently, every step a threat of imminent death should Lucien dare mock her. But he was too shocked at the sight of her to do anything but stare.

Feyre allowed herself a little self-satisfied smirk. She had chosen this particular dress, because she knew she looked  _good_  in it. The dress itself was pretty simple, a standard Etui cut, modest neckline, pinched at the waist and then fanning out to caress her wide hips, cut close at the legs. Feyre had curves and the dress showed off each and every one splendidly.

But the real reason the dress made her look  _good_  was its color: a deep, rich petrol, which complimented everything about her: from her pale blue-grey eyes, that gained a greenish hue thanks to the dresses color, to her light-brown hair, that was nicely set off against the blueish green of the fabric - hell, even her freckles looked better with this dress on. The outfit was accompanied by nude heels that made her short legs appear miles longer than they actually were.

If she had to wear a dress to work, she would be wearing it right - like a sharp blade, ready to slay any man in her path.

Lucien shook his head as if he had to literally shake the image of Feyre out of his head. This fast, his typical snarky expression was back, firmly plastered on his face.

“Got a date today, Feyre?”

Feyre ignored him and put her purse away in the wardrobe. But Lucien was used to her ignoring him. It did nothing, but make him try harder.

“Who’s the poor bastard?” he sneered.

Feyre gave him a withering glare. “None of your damn business.”

Lucien scoffed and went back to his work, but Feyre caught him glancing at her legs. Suddenly, she was very happy to have taken the time to not only shave, but also lather on unhealthy amounts of body lotion. Her shins were so dry, the skin had looked like a reptile’s. And then she chided herself for caring. What did it matter what Lucien thought about her shins?

Her angro-meter already climbing, Feyre unlocked her computer and started checking her inbox.

“So when is your date? I hope your not skipping work, only to get into some loser’s pants. You’re trying entirely too hard, Archeron.”

Feyre kept staring ahead, feeling a vein pop with the strain of not turning around and giving him a matching scar on the other side of his face. Raking her nails over his skin sounded like a damn nice idea. She imagined how it would feel, scratching him all over, leaving red welts on his skin. Maybe she would even bite him viciously enough to for it show, so everyone could see where her teeth had been. It all somehow sounded very appealing.

“You seem awfully interested in that date of mine, Lucy. Care to tell me why?” she asked in a saccharine voice she knew he hated.

It made it so much more fun to use it. Allowing herself to glimpse over at him, she found him glowering, jaw locked.

“Just want to know if it’s someone I know, so I can give him my condolences tomorrow,” he snapped and turned to his computer again.

To Feyre’s surprise, he left her alone after that, which was unusual for him. She did, however, catch him glancing at her legs quite a few times until lunch. Probably, because she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying to find a position that was comfortable and where she didn’t flash her panties; she usually sat with her legs parted.

But maybe, just maybe, he was simply checking her out? Feyre immediately shoved that idea back into the dark abyss from whence it came from. Ridiculous. Lucien wasn’t into her, he simply hated her with a passion. As did she.

Feyre was ripped out of her musing when her cellphone rang. Normally, she would ignore calls and messages during work, not wanting to offer Lucien another point of attack, leaving her flank open to comments about her poor work ethic and shit like that. But it was almost lunch anyways and when she saw the caller ID, she couldn’t resist.

Allowing herself a fond smile, she picked up the call. “Hey you!”

“Hey you back. How is my second-favorite Archeron today?”

Feyre couldn’t contain her smile - it widened so much, her face almost split in half. Her sister’s boyfriend Cassian just had that effect on her.

“I’m only your no.2? Really, I should be so offended! What’s up?”

“Wanna see a movie with me tonight? A friend gave me some tickets, but Nesta’s busy.”

“Which movie?” Feyre asked, turning around in her chair, so the back was towards Lucien, doodling absentmindedly on a post-it while she talked.

“Black Panther. If you don’t want to watch that, they’re also playing - ”

“No, that’s perfect!” Feyre said immediately. “When?”

“Movie starts at 8pm. We could have dinner before. Or go for a couple of drinks?” Cassian suggested.

She could hear the smile in his voice. The last time, they’d gone drinking, Feyre had almost started a bar fight and then passed out, leaving Cassian to clean up her mess. That was how he’d met Nesta: carrying a drunken Feyre home in his arms and presenting her to her sister like a sacrificial offering.

“No drinks. You just want to get me drunk, so you have an excuse to manhandle me again, you fiend. Dinner sounds lovely. Pick me up at work? I should be done around 5.”

“Sure thing, Fey. See you later!”

Smiling, Feyre disconnected and swirled around in her chair. Amused, she noticed that she had doodled a multitude of hearts during her call with Cassian. She sure adored that guy. Sauntering over to the wardrobe, she took out her purse to go have lunch. But before she had made it even halfway to the door. an icy voice stopped her.

“So you really have a date. You sure you want to go out with a guy like that?”

The prospect of watching that movie she had wanted to see for a while now had made Feyre forget about Lucien - he must’ve listened in on her phone call. And it seemed, that he had mistaken her conversation with her friend as a confirmation for that assumed date he had been obsessing over all morning. Just to mess with him, Feyre decided to not clear up the misunderstanding. Instead, she gave him her best scowl.

“First of all, I don’t see how it is any of your business with whom I spent my free time with, Lucien. And what do you mean with ‘a guy like that’? ”

Lucien’s eyes bore into her. “Feyre, you said something about being his no. 2 and having been drunk and manhandled by him. That doesn’t sound like he’s a decent guy.”

Feyre snorted. She never knew a guy that was more decent than Cassian. But, to be fair, from an outsider’s perspective, their conversation might have sounded somewhat weird. Still, it was none of Lucien’s business.

Feyre slowly made her way over to Lucien’s desk, perching on the edge of the table and crossing her legs, pressing them against Lucien’s seat. Their legs were almost touching. Tilting her head in a coy angle, she looked deeply into Lucien’s eye. “You concerned about me, Lucy?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw and his grip tightened on the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white. His gaze flickered to her bare legs, that were centimeters away from his fingers. So he had checked her out. The knowledge was empowering.  

“What if I am?”

Feyre leaned a bit closer, pressing her legs against his now intentionally. “I appreciate it.”

Lucien swallowed, his gaze on her legs again. Allowing herself a smug smile, she reached forward and propped a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her again.

They were so close now, if she leaned down any further, Feyre could easily bite or kiss his lips. Surprisingly, she felt inclined to do so. Forcing her thoughts away from his lips, she stared him down as best as she could.

“But, I’d also appreciate it, if you stayed out of my business.”

They glared at each other for a few heartbeats, the air taut between them, before Lucien freed his chin with a jerk and Feyre slid off the table. She picked up her purse and, with a determined stride, left their office, banging the door shut behind her. She managed to hold it together until the elevator.

Only when the doors closed, did she burst into laughter, tears stinging her eyes.

Feyre 1 - Lucien 0.


	2. Chapter 2

Feyre checked her make-up in her compact mirror and then decided to put on another layer of her tinted lip balm. For a moment, she regretted not having brought lipstick, but then again, she usually didn’t wear lipstick on a daily basis, so putting some on right now might be slightly over the top. Not that she wasn’t greatly exaggerating the whole thing in general. No. Nope. Not at all. To stage a fake date with her sister’s boyfriend just to mess with Lucien was not over the top at all.

Her victim was brooding behind his desk, throwing her daggered looks every now and then, while hacking away at his keyboard. He had been in a mood ever since lunch and it was entertaining as hell.

Feyre fought down her smile and decided to let her hair down. Arching her back more than strictly necessary, she took out the pins and shook out her long hair, that, thanks to being twisted into a bun for most of the day, now fell in soft curls down her back. Feyre felt more than saw Lucien glare once more her direction. Really, so entertaining.

Her cellphone pinged with a text from Cassian.

_I’m downstairs waiting at the curb._

Smiling, Feyre typed her reply. The angry hacking on the other side of the office became louder.

_I’ll be down in a sec._

Locking her computer, she hastily threw her phone into her purse and rummaged around for her perfume, spritzing some onto the nape of her neck and into her hair.

To her surprise, the loud typing sounds stopped abruptly and Lucien rose from his chair, stuffing papers into his briefcase.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow at him. “Going somewhere, Lucy?” she asked in a bored tone to indicate she honestly didn’t give a fuck.

“Home,” he clipped.

Feyre nodded regally and marched out without saying goodbye. They never did. But to her surprise, Lucien left with her and followed her to the elevator, like a large, brooding shadow.

She threw him a confused look. “What’s eating at you, Vanserra?”

As amusing as she found his mood, she was getting slightly worried. This was total out-of-bounds-behavior for him. She was used to snarky, sharp-tongued Lucien, who used any opportunity to throw some witty barb at her, not dark, simmering with rage, agitated Lucien.

“I’d appreciate, if you stayed out of my business, too,” he snapped.

Realization dawned on her and Feyre let out an incredulous laugh as they stepped on the elevator. “You have been in a pissy mood all afternoon, because of this?”

Lucien didn’t respond, but glared instead at the closing elevator doors. Feyre shook her head and pressed the button for the ground floor. “I’m not apologizing for it. What I do after work does not concern you. Not as long, as it doesn’t affect my performance within these halls.”

He still didn’t respond. He also didn’t push the button to the basement, that led to the garage. Where Feyre _knew_ his car was parked. She pressed it for him, giving him a pointed glare, that he masterfully ignored. She knew what he was doing. He was following her to check out her ‘date’. Her anger threatened to boil over. This self-entitled asshole thought, he could annoy her during her free time too.

The doors pinged open and Feyre stepped off the elevator, but before Lucien could get off, too, she turned and barred the way with her arms crossed, staring him down.

“You have to wrestle me to get off,” she declared.

Lucien looked like he seriously considered doing it, but the foyer was crowded with people. Feyre knew, he wouldn’t dare make a scene. No, Lucien was all about diplomacy and keeping up a front. That’s why his insults were always sugar-coated, wrapped up like a nice Bonbon so you only noticed how bitter they were, once you had already swallowed it.

His face turned hard and angry, his brows knitting in fury. “Feyre,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Feyre scowled right back. They were locked in a death stare, until the doors closed. The second they closed completely, he called her name again. This time, it sounded pleading. Feyre let out a breath of relief, when she heard the soft plop of the elevator doors snapping shut and the elevator descended down. Seriously, what was his deal?

Hurrying towards the front door, she checked the curb for Cassian.

“Feyre!” He waved at her from further down the street, casually leaning against his car.

Donning a big smile, Feyre practically skipped over to him and sunk into one of his famous bear-hugs. “Hey, Cass!”

“Wow, Fey! You didn’t have to dress up for me, you know?” Cassian said, eyeing her outfit appreciatively after releasing her. From any other guy, this would’ve sounded sleazy, but coming from Cassian, she could take the compliment.

“I didn’t dress up for you, but thanks anyways!” she laughed and hooked her arm with his. “Where are you taking me to dinner?”

“There is this fancy, new restaurant down the street, and by fancy I mean a dingy, greasy burger joint you’re grossly overdressed for,” he grinned, lightly shoving her with his shoulder.

“Perfect!” she declared, grinning right back, looking up to him while they walked.

A sudden movement behind them had her turn her head. Lucien was standing on the sidewalk, panting like he had ran all the way from the basement garage after her, a look of open hostility on his face as he seized up Cassian. Feyre halted in surprise, consequently forcing Cassian to a stop.

“What is it Fey? he asked, following her gaze and eyeing Lucien. “Someone you know?” Cassian frowned and then looked for Feyre for confirmation.

“My colleague,” she said in a loud voice, making sure Lucien heard. “Who is entirely too nosy about my business and about who I spent time with after work.”

But Lucien didn’t look at her, instead he kept glaring at Cassian, his hands clenching at his sides. Cassian’s gaze flitted between Feyre and Lucien and then his trademark shit-eating grin bloomed on his face; the one, that egged on most men and invited them to throw a punch. Cassian unhooked his arm from Feyre’s and instead draped it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side.

“You want to introduce us, babe?” he drawled.

Feyre looked up to him in surprise at the  term of endearment and then to Lucien, who had begun shaking with rage. Cassian was baiting him, she realized. And Lucien readily swallowed his bait. His neck started to get red, the color creeping higher and higher, until it rose higher and higher on his face, clashing horribly with his auburn hair. Feyre wondered if he would explode, if the red reached his forehead. She bit back a laugh.

“No, I think not. Come on, Cass, I’m hungry. Bye Lucy!”

Feyre waved at Lucien and turned, wrapping her arm around Cassian’s waist. They started down the sidewalk and the moment Lucien couldn’t see her face anymore, Feyre started grinning like an idiot. _Hah! Served him right!_

Cassian chuckled softly at her side and then bend down to whisper in her ear. Feyre was sure, it looked really, really intimate. “What’s his deal?”

“I don’t know,” Feyre confessed. “He’s been super weird all day, obsessing over me going on a date, because I’m wearing a dress. So I decided to mess with him a bit.” She looked up at Cassian and batted her eyelashes for good measure - just in case, Lucien was still watching. “He overheard our conversation earlier today and since then, he has been convinced, we’re on a hot date and you are about to get me drunk with plans to ravage me afterwards.”

“Why are you wearing a dress tho? Not your usual style.”

“I didn’t have any clean pants left.”

Cassian threw back his head in laughter. “And you couldn’t just tell him that?”

Feyre frowned at her friend. “Why would I? The moment I set foot in the office today, he ridiculed me about a date I never claimed I had.”

Still laughing, Cassian pressed a little kiss onto her hair, glancing back to Lucien when he did so.

“Oooooh, he didn’t like that,” Cassian gloated.

“What?”

“The kiss I just gave you. He’s about to have a stroke!”

“He’s still watching?” Feyre didn’t want to give Lucien the satisfaction of turning around and acknowledging his presence. Not while she was with her ‘date’ _._ “I don’t get him. What is his problem?”

Cassian threw her a curious look. “You really don’t get it, do you? Wow Fey, I didn’t think you were this thick.”

Feyre smacked him hard on the chest. “What? What am I missing?”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “He’s clearly into you, Fey. As in _don’t touch her, she’s mine, you fucker!_ into you _._ _That should be me beside her_ into you.”

“No, not possible! He _hates_ me, Cassian!” Feyre shook her head vigorously. “He can’t be.”

_Or could he_? The constant immature teasing, the way he had kept looking at her legs today. Had he been jealous right now when he saw her leave with Cassian? Worried?

It couldn’t be. She refused to believe it. Lucien, her mortal enemy Lucien, bane of her existence Lucien, pain-in-her-ass Lucien, couldn’t be interested in her that way. She simply refused to believe it.

Cassian took one look at her face and laughed. “Poor guy! How long has he come onto you, only to be ignored?”

Feyre stared blankly ahead, thinking back to when their rivalry had actually started. “Since day one,” she whispered flatly.

“How long ago was day one?”

Feyre turned to her friend with wide eyes. “Roughly 5 months.”

Cassian stopped walking, since they reached the burger joint, but didn’t lead her inside.

“Cauldron Fey!”

“When he asked me about whether I had a date today, he didn’t mean to ridicule me, did he?” Feyre’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

Cassian nodded in confirmation. “Probably just a very roundabout way of making sure, you were _not_ having a date.”

“By the mother!” Feyre glanced back towards were they had left Lucien standing.

With a start, she realized he was still standing in the same spot. She could clearly make him out over the distance, his red hair like a beacon in the grey sea of people. Even from here, she could see how livid he was.

Feyre inhaled sharply. “He’s jealous. He’s pissed at you and jealous, Cass.”

Lucien was jealous. Of her sister’s boyfriend. Because he was into her. And instead of approaching her and flirt like a normal guy would’ve, he had resorted to immature pre-school bullying.

Feyre didn’t know, how she was supposed to feel about all this. Too many conflicting emotions surged up, wanting to explode out off her without any chance for Feyre to control them. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a dry laugh. And then she unraveled completely and started laughing hysterically, tears running down her cheeks, while she doubled over with laughter.

Cassian tucked her under his arm and led her into the joint. “Come on, missy. Better have your mental breakdown where he can’t see.”

Still giggling uncontrollably, Feyre glanced back to Lucien, trying to make him out through the blur of her tears and the evening crowd. This time, he was finally gone.

Feyre 2 - Lucien 0.  

Right?


	3. Chapter 3

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Feyre dropped her head to her shoulder and sniffed her dress. Nope, still the scent of Febreze.

She hadn't made it home yesterday. After she had calmed down enough to behave like a normal person again, Feyre presented a - in her opinion - well-argumented speech about why Lucien couldn't possibly be into her. Cassian had listened patiently, munching his burger and fries, and then, after she had finally exhausted all arguments she could think of, asked, whether she wanted him to be into her or not.

This had left Feyre shell-shocked for long enough for Cassian to order another beer and cram some fries into her face to spur her into eating.

“It doesn't matter, if I want him to,” Feyre had finally declared, while they'd settled into their seats at the cinema.

Cassian had given her a sympathetic nod. “Sure, whatever you say, Fey. Now shut up, I want to watch the movie.”

Feyre actually managed to shut up, but her mind continued spinning like crazy - enough for her to miss most of the movie. She just stared and the screen, but instead of Wakanda, she saw Lucien.

Lucien making snarky comments at her, smirking at her, that one time she had heard him laugh with actual joy over a joke she had made, the way he had ogled her legs today. Because really, he had ogled them, hadn't he?

And one picture in particular she couldn't get out of her mind was how she had held his chin and stared at his lips, feeling the urge to kiss him. Or how he had riled her up enough that she wanted to scratch and bite him. Hate sex. By whatever bubbling contents her little Cauldron of Lucien-hate had cooked up, she wanted to have hate sex with Lucien this morning. And she totally hadn't realized.

Feyre had grabbed Cassian's arm in her sudden terror.

“Cassian!”

Cassian had given her a concerned frown.

“Cassian, I think I might've wanted to have hate sex with him today,” she whispered horrified.

Her friend had groaned into his hands. Thankfully the ending credits were already rolling, else they might have been lynched for the disturbance.

“What is it with you Archerons and your hate sex. Just admit you like the poor guy and enjoy a good, healthy lay.”

But Feyre had been firm in her denial of liking Lucien, so Cassian had done the only thing he could think of: he dropped Feyre off at her sister's to get advice from master of hate-love herself.

Nesta had listened to Feyre all but 5 minutes, then forced her to take off her dress to douse it in Febreze, because it _smelled like burger grease_ as Nesta had put it. And then Feyre had started ranting about how _she couldn't possibly like Lucien_ and Nesta had wholeheartedly agreed.

“Of course you don't like him. Why would you?”

They had downed a bottle of wine and Feyre had kept on ranting. But curiously, the more she had tried to convince Nesta, who didn't really need convincing about not liking Lucien, the more it sounded like she was desperately denying the obvious.

She had ended up staying over at Nesta’s, meaning she was wearing the same petrol dress to work. But at least she had been able to take a shower and borrow not only make-up, but also fresh underwear and pantyhose from her sister. Feyre's only concern was, that her dress still smelled like burger grease.

The closer she got to the office, the faster her heart beat. She dreaded confronting Lucien today. She had no clue what to say to him. He had been really agitated yesterday and Feyre hadn't helped by taunting him like she had. But still, being interested in her didn't give him any right to stick his nose into her business. Really, the only reason she kept fighting with him was because he kept acting like such an ass.

Feyre felt herself slowly working up a temper, but she welcomed it. Being angry was familiar. Being angry was better than being confused and flustered over what would expect her. Right. She'd give Lucien a fine piece of mind over the shit he pulled yesterday.

Determined, Feyre marched down the hallway, her heels clacking viciously on the tile floor. To Feyre, it sounded like war drums, announcing the inevitable battle that was to come. She tried to throw open their office door with bravado, but found it locked. With a curse, she unlocked and _then_ threw it open, but Lucien wasn't there yet.

Feyre's temper deflated like a souffle. And she allowed herself to admit, that she was a tiny bit disappointed.

* * *

 

Feyre had spent the morning alone in the office, feeling bored and unmotivated. With her no. 1 distraction not present for once, she'd thought, she would manage to get her work done a lot faster, but instead, it seemed that whenever she glanced at her clock, only a minute had passed instead of 5.

After she had went over the same passage in a text for the 5th time, she threw herself back in her chair and let out a frustrated groan. She didn’t want to admit it, but missed having Lucien around. And she hated not knowing what mood he was in after yesterday.

She wanted to confront him and be over with it, like quickly ripping off a bandaid. Instead, it was like someone kept pulling it off painstakingly slow from all sides, taking their time, while the wound underneath kept festering.

Feyre needed to purge yesterday’s events from her system. And then maybe she could deal with the fact, that she might be fancying Lucien Vanserra and he most certainly fancied her.

_Where might he be?_

Feyre had resisted checking his calendar, because she had tried to convince herself for most of the morning, that she didn’t care where he was, but it was her best option. Well, her best option that didn’t involve looking up his number and calling him like a psycho-stalker, that is. She could technically call the front desk and ask, whether he called today and informed them about being sick or something, but then they’d know she had inquired after him, so Feyre couldn’t do that. So his calendar it was.

She opened her Outlook and was about to click on the calendar icon, when the door opened and Lucien strode in like he had no care in the world. He was also ignoring her presence. To her own surprise, Feyre was very relieved to seeing him, but she was also pissed. He could’ve left a note or something.

“Late, aren’t we?” she snapped. Damn, she sounded more pissed than she had intended.

“Off-site meeting with a customer. It’s in my calendar, not that I need to explain myself to you,” he replied curtly, still not looking at her.

Feyre bit her lip. This was already going very wrong. “Look, Lucien, about yesterday -” she started.

“Yeah, sorry for being a decent human being and worrying about a co-worker, who goes on a date with a -”

Lucien stopped talking the moment he turned around and finally looked at her. He took in her attire, the same as yesterday, with narrowed eyes and remained silent for a good long while, his face turning stony. And then he flashed her a grim smile.

“Long night?” he said, his voice dripping acid. “I hope, it was consensual. Or did he get you so drunk, you don’t remember?”

I did not sleep with him!” she hissed. “And even if I had, it’s still none of your goddamn business!”

“Why, couldn’t get it up?” Lucien wouldn’t back down. “Did he exhaust himself with his no.1 already, before he went on a date with you?”

Feyre gripped her mouse so hard, the plastic was creaking. “Stop talking about him like that! You know nothing about Cassian or me!”

Lucien sneered at her and then dismissed her, attacking his keyboard like his life depended on it. Feyre wanted to throttle him so badly, to slap his sneer out of his face, she thought she might be choking on her rage. She may have missed his presence this morning, but now that he was here, Feyre was suffocating from his hostility. Why had she thought, he would be any different today?

Wordlessly, she pushed away from her table and stood up, taking up her purse.

Lucien frowned. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Somewhere, anywhere, doesn’t matter. As long as you’re not there, anything will do,” Feyre fumed.

Lucien’s brows knitted together and he shot her a dark look, but he also looked genuinely hurt. Feyre stormed out of their office, but not without a tiny stab of guilt piercing her right in the gut.

* * *

 

It took Feyre almost an hour, one big cup of strong tea and a long walk in the doggie park with lots of petting and cuddling friendly canines to calm down and think really hard about why she actually was so pissed at Lucien.

It was only when she was hugging a fluffy Japanese Shiba Inu, that remotely reminded her of a fox, which in turn strangely reminded her of Lucien, that Feyre realized, she hadn’t been angry as much as disappointed. For some reason, she had thought, today would be different.

As if finding out that Lucien might have an interest in her had changed anything between them. Of course it hadn’t. Lucien had taunted her and fought with her since day one. He wouldn’t suddenly change, only because she thought she knew the motive behind his actions. But knowing them gave her the possibility to understand them.

Waving the Shiba Inu and his owner goodbye, Feyre decided to make her way back to the office, devising a new strategy. The way things were now, neither of them were winning. Lucien was jealous, this much was clear. And he had also made it clear, that he had been actually worried about her dating some shitty asshole. So everything should be fine, if she could just clear up their misunderstanding. And then they could go back to usual.

Feyre stopped walking abruptly. _No._ She didn’t want things to return to usual. If she was being completely honest, the constant fighting was getting tedious. It had be fun in the beginning, but after yesterday, something had changed. Now she wanted - she didn’t know what she wanted.

“Feyre!”

Jumping with surprise, Feyre turned.

“Lucien. What are you doing here?” she asked, dumbfounded. She hadn’t realized where she’d been walking: she was in front of their office building already.

“Looking for you, what else?” he declared hotly. “Your lunch break ended half an hour ago!”

“So what. You’re not my boss!” she snapped immediately. Lucien’s face grew stormy.

_Shit_. No, she was falling back into her default mode. She always assumed the worst with him, but maybe, that was just his way of telling her, that he had been worried.

Feyre sighed, touching her hand to her forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Can we just… not fight for a second?”

“I never meant to fight with you!” he scoffed.

Feyre wanted to snort, but didn’t. It would only rile him up. They were very, very good at pushing each other’s buttons.

“Can we take this inside?” Feyre pleaded softly.

Surprise flashed over Lucien’s face hearing her tone. He had probably expected her to attack him like usual. But Feyre was done. She didn’t want to fight anymore. Not today. Not over this.

“Sure, come on.”

They walked in silence into the building and towards their office. Feyre noticed Lucien threw her curious, confused glances every now and then, but he didn’t say anything, until they were in their office.

Feyre stowed away her purse in the wardrobe and flopped very inelegantly into her desk chair. Lucien casually leaned against his desk, arms crossed. He was about to open his mouth, when Feyre’s stomach made an obnoxiously loud sound.  

Lucien looked at her for a moment and then he burst out laughing - real, full-bellied laughter. Feyre couldn’t help but stare at him. Why didn’t he always laugh like this? It gave her the weirdest, tingly feelings in her stomach.

“Didn’t you just come back from lunch break?” he wheezed.

“I didn’t eat.”

“What did you do then?”

“Petting doggies in the park,” she shrugged. “It’s better than therapy. One reminded me of you.”

“And you didn’t strangle it?” Lucien flashed her one of his sharp, edged smiles.

“No. It _reminded_ me of you. It wasn’t you!” Feyre pointed out.

Contrary to what she expected, Lucien chuckled and pushed off his desk. “Be right back,” he announced, walking out.

Feyre stared after him, puzzled. This was actually going better than she had anticipated. Feyre relaxed back into her chair, kicking off her heels. After walking for more than an hour, her feet hurt. She kicked her feet up on her desk and exhaled deeply.

The door opened and Lucin slipped back into the office, carrying a mug and a little bag.

“Here.”

He placed both onto her desk. Feyre stared wordlessly at him. “What is this?”

“Tea and a BLT sandwich,” he shrugged. “Eat before you faint.”

How did he now, that she loved BLT sandwiches? Feyre inspected the little tag on the teabag. Rooibos Vanilla. Her eyes softened. “This is my favorite tea.”

“I know.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped up to Lucien. He was leaning against his desk again, regarding her with a neutral expression.

“How?” she asked.

The corners of his mouth tugged slightly upwards in an almost smile. “Feyre, we spend up to 7, 8, sometimes 10 hours crammed together in this office 5 days a week. It’s not hard to notice certain things, if you pay attention.”

Feyre dug out the sandwich and unwrapped it, taking a bite. “You paid attention to me?” she teased.

This time, he smirked. Feyre’s stomach fluttered again. Damn, she must be really hungry.

“You don’t? Pay attention to me?” he challenged.

“More than is good for either of us,” she replied darkly, humor gone completely.

Lucien nodded and he too grew solemn. Feyre munched her sandwich, pondering how to best go about clearing their misunderstanding. But Lucien was faster.

“Look, I’m sorry about being nosy. You’re right, it’s none of my business what you do after work.”

Feyre hastily swallowed her mouthful of bread and tomato.

“I didn’t have a date yesterday. Cassian is my friend. And my sister’s boyfriend. I stayed over at her place yesterday, because I had some things to discuss with her,” she confessed.

_You being into me, for example. And me possibly being into you, too._ She didn’t say this part out loud, of course.

Lucien stared at her, as if she’d declared, she was an immortal being that came from a mystical land called Prythian, where she was ruling over other magical beings as their queen or lady.

“But your outfit.” He motioned at her dress for emphasis. “You never wear dresses!”

“I didn’t have clean pants left,” Feyre shrugged.

Lucien blinked, taken by surprise over the simple explanation. “Oh!”

“Oh, indeed.” Feyre took up the mug and blew on her tea. “You could’ve asked, you know? Why I was wearing a dress instead of pants..”

“Would you have told me?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

They both fell silent.

Eventually, Lucien raked his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed things about you and your friend.”

“Yeah. And I shouldn’t have teased you about it.” She gave him a small smile. “Thanks for worrying about me, Lucien. I appreciate it. Really!”

Lucien hastily looked away and rubbed his lips. “You’re my colleague, of course I’ll worry.”

Colleague, sure. Feyre smiled amused and took a careful sip of her tea. “Ceasefire?”

Lucien gave her a slow nod. “Ceasefire!”

And then they smiled at each other for the first time ever.

Feyre could’ve sworn, Lucien’s cheeks had turned pink ever so slightly. Hers were definitely warm, but Feyre ascribed her flush to the tea.

There was no way she was blushing because he smiled at her. And the flutter in her stomach was definitely not butterflies.

Feyre 3 - Lucien 1

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***NSFW***

Their relationship had become a bit more amicable after their talk a few weeks back, but Lucien and Feyre were still engaged in an endless game of tug-of-war, trying to upend one another. However, Feyre had decided to change the game Lucien and her were playing slightly and it was a dangerous strategy she’d decided to pursue.

Feyre would use whatever excuse possible to come too close or brush up against Lucien ‘by accident’. Like when showing him something on the computer, she would bend over this desk, boobs entirely too close to his face, her arm or side ‘accidentally’ bumping into him. Or she would let their arms and hands touch in passing when they walked down or passed each other in the hallway or in their office.

The way how Lucien reacted to those little fleeting touches was priceless. He would go rigid, his whole body tensing up, his face a mask of stone. And then his eye would darken, the pupil blowing wide, chasing away the russet of his good eye. Because his other eye was a prosthesis and couldn’t react in the same way, it was even more obvious how much her little touches affected him. And then he would try to divert her attention away from his lap, because Feyre’s little pranks turned him on - badly enough to make him grow hard.

Feyre loved nothing more than the moments when he excused himself from their office to go to the bathroom, no doubt to rub one out, angling his body or hiding his groin from her with a cleverly held stack of papers, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while he left the room.

But the game she was playing was a double-edged sword; Feyre was no less turned on by it. And the more weeks passed, the more frustrated she grew, obsessing over when Lucien would finally snap and just took what he wanted from her - what they both wanted.

Feyre was half tempted to start a fight with him just because she hoped it would drive him to rip off her clothes and make her bend over her desk. Or his, if he preferred his own desk. Really, she wasn’t picky.

Feyre sighed and smoothed her skirt down for the hundredths time today, while she walked around the conference table, collecting leftover documents and tidying up after the meeting they'd had. That wasn’t actually her job, but she had offered to do it for the very pregnant assistant, who apparently needed to hurl up her guts in the toilet. It also gave her an excuse to be away from being confined in the same office with Lucien for a few minutes.

Although it started out as fun, lately Feyre wasn’t so sure she was winning their little touching game anymore. She was so pent-up, she had touched herself indulging in a little fantasy about Lucien last night.

Lucien Vanserra was now officially in her spank bank. Congratulations! The prize: another hellish day of being sexually frustrated.

Shaking her head at herself, Feyre stacked the documents into a neat pile and put them on the table for the assistant to find later. Then she reached down to smooth down her skirt _again._

The skirt had been a mistake. It was a simple, charcoal pencil skirt that wrapped her booty magnificently, but it was also a bit too tight. When she had checked herself out in the mirror this morning, the pencil skirt and dove grey silk blouse combo had looked mouthwatering, but that had been while standing up. Not while moving around. Whenever she took three steps, the skirt rode up, forcing her to smooth it back down.

“There you are! What are you still doing in here?”

Lucien had stuck his head into the conference room. Feyre silently cursed how handsome said head was.

“Cleaning up after the conference. Ianthe needed to go to the restroom to puke. Morning sickness,” Feyre explained.

Lucien scoffed and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “The only thing Ianthe is doing in the restroom is fucking Tamlin, trying to give her baby a twin.” He angled his head and gave her a bemused smirk when he saw Feyre’s confusion. “You did know, it’s Tamlin’s baby, right?”

Feyre hadn’t, but she didn’t particularly care if their boss had knocked up his assistant. She was, however, mildly disgusted that Tamlin had been commenting on her new wardrobe and giving her obvious once-overs lately, when he had Ianthe. Feyre frowned, slightly disturbed. _How many girls did that tool try to get pregnant in the same office?_

Lucien’s amusement faded out of his face. “Does it concern you? Tamlin being with Ianthe.”

He must’ve mistaken her frown for disappointment that Tamlin was involved with someone else. “No,” Feyre answered truthfully. “I couldn’t care less about Tamlin.”

“Although he has been hitting on you quite a bit this last couple of weeks?”

Feyre grinned smugly. “Why, Lucy, have you actually been paying attention?”

Lucien casually leaned against the closed door, crossing his ankles. Feyre did the same, leaning against the edge of the conference table and crossing her legs. Lucien’s eyes fell to her feet, eyeing her black peep-toe heels, and then slowly climbing up over her bare legs all the way to where the skirt stopped just a bit above her knees. When he raised his eyes to her hers again, she was glad that she was already leaning against something. She didn’t trust her legs to support her right now.

“I’m always paying attention. Especially when it concerns you,” he said in a husky voice.

_Oh my!_ Feyre averted her gaze and smoothed down her skirt again. The damn thing just wouldn’t stay put.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Lucien suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Fidgeting with your skirt like that. You’ve been doing this for the whole day. It’s suspicious.”

Lucien was staring hard at her hand that rested on her thigh.

“You think I’m hiding something underneath, Lucy?” Feyre asked amused.

“More like, hiding the fact that there is nothing to hide underneath,” he said, his eyes boring into hers once more.

Feyre inhaled deeply, her arousal spiking. This was it. Her chance to turn the game around in her favor. She could either tell him the plain truth, or entice him further, hoping he’d finally make a move. It seemed, Feyre had moved her all her pawns in the right position and Lucien had unwittingly stepped into her trap.

_Mate_. Once more move and she’d won.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

A small, dangerous smile bloomed on Lucien’s face, making Feyre’s stomach clench in anticipation. She leaned further back onto the table, the wood digging into the back of her thighs. She uncrossed her ankles, setting her feet next to each other, slightly parted, and flashed Lucien a suggestive smile. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached behind him and locked the door. The lock snapped shut with a sharp click.

_Checkmate_.

Ever so slowly, Lucien stepped closer and came to stand in front of her, bracing his hands on either side of the table beside her, effectively caging her with his arms. Feyre leaned back slightly, stretching her spine and arching her back. He was domineering as hell, dangerous, exciting. She took a shuddering breath, her nipples pinching and a dull ache already throbbing low in her belly.

“Should we have a look?” Lucien asked. He was close enough for his breath to fan over her face. It smelled of mint and cinnamon. Feyre swallowed.

“Go ahead, if you dare,” she challenged him, but her voice came out breathy and less firm than she had intended. Feyre was beyond aroused; a pulsing throb between her legs had joined the dull ache in her belly. Her underwear was most certainly soaked already.

Lucien gave her a feral little smile, his sharp white teeth glinting. She noticed one of his canines was shaped like a little fang. Feyre couldn’t stop staring at it, wondering how it’d feel if he bit her. She wanted him to. Desperately.

Lucien placed his hands on either side of her thighs, hiking up her skirt excruciatingly slow. At this point, Feyre was breathing shallow at best; the tension was killing her. She wanted him to hurry up, to rip their clothes off, but Feyre remained unmoving, but trembling with desire, keeping her eyes firmly locked with Lucien's.

But when he had pulled up the skirt high enough to reach under the hem, brushing his fingers over the bare skin of her thighs, she couldn’t help it any longer - she had to close her eyes and throw back her head, exhaling with a big sigh. She had imagined his fingers on herself yesterday, but her imagination hadn’t come close to how his hot fingers felt on her skin, burning her alive in their wake and sending shivers up and down her spine.

Lucien grabbed her naked thighs on either side. “If you want me to stop, better tell me now,” he warned, voice hoarse. His breath felt hot against her bared throat.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Lucien produced a something that sounded like a growl and softly sunk his teeth into her skin at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Feyre gave a startled gasp and then exhaled with a soft moan. As suspected, his little fang dug deeper than the other teeth. The piercing pain it caused was sublime.

Sliding his hands up her thighs, he bunched up her skirt on her waist. Feyre lifted her hips off the table for a moment, so he could pull the skirt up over her rear. Lucien didn’t remove his mouth from her shoulder to look and check whether or not she was wearing underwear. Instead, he let his hands explore. While his mouth worked his way towards and up her neck, biting and sucking as he went, Lucien ran one hand down her thigh and back up, this time on the inside, slowly inching closer towards the place that was throbbing for him.

And then his fingers brushed her soaked panties. Although the touch was feather-light at best, Feyre jolted, her arousal having made the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her tights swollen and overly sensitive. But Lucien stilled, testingly brushing over her panties once more, causing Feyre to shudder and bite her lip, and then pulled away to look down, visibly confused.

“Your wearing underwear,” he stated disappointed when his eye(s) confirmed what his fingers had felt.

“I never claimed otherwise.” Feyre said with a breathy laugh.

“Why do you constantly pull your skirt down then?”

“It’s too tight, so it’s riding up.”

Lucien growled again, this time sounding annoyed, and pressed his fingers down harder, rubbing her over her panties. Feyre let out a strangled choke and her arms shot up, gripping his biceps. Not to deter him, but to hold onto him.

“Lucien!” she moaned.

And then, finally, his mouth was on hers, sucking and biting her lips in a bruising kiss. His free hand wrapped around the nape of her neck with a steel grip, forcing her head back. Impatiently he ripped her panties down, plunging his fingers into her slick folds.

Lucien broke away, staring down at her, a feral glint in his eyes. “You’re wet,” he growled, a wild, happy smile overtaking his features.

“No shit!” she panted, gripping his biceps harder while he worked her relentlessly with his fingers.

“How long have you been wet for me, Feyre?”

Instead of answering, Feyre cupped his groin with one hand, relishing the hardness that pressed against her palm.

“The question should be, how long have _you_ been hard for _me_ , Lucien?

“Way too long!”

In a sudden, swift movement, he pushed a finger inside of her and Feyre gasped, immediately clenching around him. Lucien observed her closely while he pumped in and out of her. When he inserted a second finger, Feyre had enough - deftly, she unbuttoned Lucien’s slacks and slipped her hand straight into his underwear, wrapping her hand around his erection. She had longed to do this far longer than she had cared to admit, she realized. Now it was Lucien’s turn to moan.

Feyre worked his shaft in the same rough pace that his fingers used on her. They were still close enough to kiss, but didn’t. Instead, they stared each other down, breathing in each other’s panting breaths, racing towards the goal to make the other come undone under their touch before they succumbed themselves.

It was Feyre, who unraveled first. She felt herself building quickly and lunged forward to catch Lucien’s bottom lip between her teeth. Biting down hard, she clenched around his fingers and came with staggering force, her thighs trembling uncontrollably while she rode out her orgasm. Hadn’t Lucien still held her neck in a steel grip, she would’ve fallen backwards on the table, unable to hold herself up.

Lucien laughed into her mouth and then freed his lips, licking over he hurt. Through her orgasmic haze she realized, he was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Lucien remarked, horribly satisfied with himself. Feyre wanted to snap a response, but she was too spent. Lucien pulled her closer for a hard kiss and then turned her around and bend her over the table - like she had wanted him to for weeks.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, Archeron. Hard enough that we will get in trouble with HR, if you don’t keep your voice down. And I have every intention to make you scream.”

Feyre turned around and propped herself on her elbows, shooting him the best glare she could muster at the moment. He gave her a dirty grin and slapped her bare ass. Feyre yelped at the stinging pain, but she also welcomed it. She loved antagonizing him as much as he did antagonizing her, their rough handling of the other spicing things up more than she thought possible.

“You’re a kinky asshole, aren’t you, Vanserra,” she said tauntingly. As she had hoped, it earned her another slap.

Through lowered lashes, Feyre watched him dig out his wallet from his back pocket and take out a condom. The way he ripped it open with relish and rolled it onto his cock had her clench in anticipation. Considering the wicked grin he shot her, Feyre feared, she wouldn’t be able to leave this conference room on her own two legs after he was done with her.

“You like it kinky, it seems,” he chuckled, running two fingers through her center once more. Bending down over her, he held his fingers before her eyes. “See, you’re practically dripping on the table.” He put his fingers onto her lips and Feyre willingly took them into her mouth, sucking of her own juices from his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled into her ear.

And then Lucien slammed into her without further warning. Feyre cried out in surprise, her cry muffled by his fingers still in her mouth. He wasn’t kidding when he said, he was going to make her scream.

“You alright?”

Lucien reclaimed his fingers and brushed away her hair, so he could see her face.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” she mewled, lowering her torso completely onto the table.

Lucien smiled and grabbed her hips. And then he ploughed into her hard and fast. Feyre had to bite her fist to avoid screaming with every thrust he drove into her. Arching her back more and raising her hips, Feyre submitted herself completely to him, letting Lucien have his way with her as he pleased. It didn’t take long for her to build again.

“Lucien,” she whimpered. “Don’t, I’m - I’m coming, I’m -”

With a half-stifled cry, Feyre hit another peak, her orgasm mercilessly dragged out by Lucien’s relentless thrusting. Only when she was a half-sobbing mess, barely conscious, did he finally go still and came with a choked groan.

Lucien fell on top of her with a happy, breathy laugh and planted a little kiss on her cheek. After all the rough sex, the gesture surprised her.

“Hey there, you alive?” he asked softly.

Feyre gave him a weary smile. “Barely. I hate to admit it, but you did make good of your promise,” she slurred.

Lucien huffed another laugh and turned her face more towards him, planting a soft kiss to her lips before he pulled out. He carefully snapped off the condom and wrapped it in one of the leftover documents in lieu of a tissue, placing it on the table to take with him later. Then pulled his pants back up and helped a weak-kneed Feyre stand.

With shocking gentleness, that contradicted everything he had done so far and that she was used to, he helped Feyre dress, pulling up her panties and smoothing down her skirt, flattening her tousled hair with both hands. Feyre watched him with wide eyes, unable to do anything but stare. She didn’t know this side of Lucien, and she certainly hadn’t expected it.

“Did I go too rough?” he asked, studying her face. His snarky demeanor was gone. If Feyre didn’t know any better, she’d say, he was being sweet.

“No, I’m good. Only exhausted,” she mumbled.

Lucien nodded and kissed her again. Feyre was getting really confused about his behaviour. They’d finally fucked and gotten it out of their system, why was he being so affectionate all of a sudden?

“Let’s get you back to the office then, to rest.”

Lucien snatched the wrapped condom from the table and gave her another kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough, and then took her hand, leading her towards the door. Feyre followed on wobbly legs, wondering whether he planned to hold her hand all the way to their office. People would notice if the company’s rumored enemies would suddenly stroll down the hallway, holding hands like a couple.

Feyre wanted to tell him this, when her attention got snagged by something on the ground.

“Lucien, wait!”

Letting go of Lucien’s hand, Feyre crouched down to pick up his cellphone. It had probably slipped out of his pants earlier. “You almost forgot your -”

Feyre’s voice died the instant she looked at the screen. She must’ve accidentally pushed the start button when picking it up, because the lockscreen had lit up. The background showed with Lucien and a black-haired man, Lucien planting a kiss on the guy’s cheek, the other man laughing happily. It looked intimate, not like a picture of two friends, but of two lovers.

Wordlessly, Feyre held the screen up for Lucien to see.

“Ah!”

Lucien’s expression turned sheepish and he ran a hand through his shoulder-length, auburn hair. “I can explain!”

“Who is this?” Feyre asked in a flat voice. She couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be true.

Lucien took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, meeting her gaze head on.

“Rhys. My boyfriend.”

Feyre slapped him - hard enough for his head to whip to the side with the force. Her palm stung horribly, like thousand needles poking into them repeatedly, but it was nothing compared to the soul-crushing mortification she felt.

“Don’t you ever dare touch me or talk to me again!”

Before he could open his mouth and begin to justify his actions, Feyre marched out of the room, tears burning hotly in her eyes.

Feyre 3 - Lucien 2

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello, yes, this is Feyre Archeron. I’m not feeling well, so I’ll be going home now. Could you please forward all my calls to Lucien Vanserra? He offered to take over.”

Feyre looked up right in time to see Lucien entering their office, a distraught look on his face. With satisfaction she noticed the bright red handprint her hand had left on his cheek.

“Do you think you will be in tomorrow? Just in case someone has an urgent question,” the girl from the front desk asked.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be in tomorrow,” Feyre answered, pinning Lucien with a cold gaze. “I’m really sick. A stomach bug, probably. You see, I really feel like hurling up my guts.”

Lucien blanched and started towards her, but Feyre held up a hand. Lucien stopped dead.

“Yes, thank you. Yes, I’ll hand in a doctor’s note. Thanks.”

Feyre ended the call and turned to the wardrobe to collect her purse.

“Feyre, look at me!”

She ignored Lucien and dug through her purse with trembling fingers, making sure she had everything. Then she turned, heading for the door.

“Feyre!” Lucien intercepted her, barring her way to the door.

“Out of my way,” she hissed.

Feyre was shaking with rage, but also with exhaustion. All she wanted was to go home and cry, maybe drink herself into oblivion. But most of all, she wanted to get away from Lucien.

Lucien held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Please, I can explain!” He seemed desperate.

Feyre shook her head. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She just wanted to get away.

“Out. Of. My. Way!” she repeated through clenched teeth and then tried to walk past him.

Lucien caught her by the elbow. “Feyre!”

Whirling around, she raised her hand to slap him again, but this time, Lucien saw it coming and caught her hand by the wrist.

“Let me explain, Feyre,” he pleaded urgently, forcing her hands down to her sides and keeping them there. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

“Let me go,” she raged, screaming loud enough to alarm people outside their office. “I hate you! Don’t touch me!” She only noticed she was crying, when she realized, she couldn’t see clearly anymore, the tears blurring her vision. “I hate you!”

Lucien bend down and kissed her forcefully, either to make her shut up or to calm her.

And Feyre hated herself for it, but she stopped fighting him and surrendered to his kiss, tears hot on her cheeks. Lucien let go of her wrists and pulled her closer, folding her into his arms. Feyre sacked against him, her rage-fuelled energy slowly sapping out of her, as if Lucien was sucking it out with every kiss.

Pulling back, Lucien studied her, brushing away the tears from her cheek. “Please, let me explain.”

Feyre no longer had the strength to fight back. Sobbing, she let herself be guided back to her desk chair and sat down, Lucien kneeling in front of her, looking up. He held her hands firmly clasped between his.

“Feyre, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him, before we…”

“Before you fucked me in the conference room?” she spat.

Lucien winced, but didn’t look away. “Yes. Before I fucked you in the conference room. But I was afraid you would never get involved with me, if you heard I had a boyfriend.”

“Are you an idiot? Of course I wouldn’t! I don’t sleep with men who -”

“Fuck other men?” Lucien’s voice was sharp.

Feyre snorted and shook her head. “You don't get to be angry about this. And by the way, I couldn’t care less where you stick it, Lucien. I don’t sleep with men, who are in a relationship. Period. I despise adultery. Or cheating.”

Lucien let out a deep breath and the tension left his shoulders. He had the audacity to look relieved, caressing her cheek gently and smiling up at her .

“Feyre, do you know how hard it is for a bisexual man to find a woman, who is not turned off by him for being with men too? For most women, I’m as good as gay.”

Feyre stared at him in disbelief. “You think I care about that now? Lucien, you just _slept_ with me. This game that we’re playing - we’ve been doing this for _months_. Even though you have a _boyfriend_.”

“Yeah, and I tell you, he doesn’t care!” Lucien simply said.

Feyre huffed an incredulous laugh and pulled her hands out of his. “I don’t believe you. How could he not care that his boyfriend cheated on him?”

“Rhys and I are in an open relationship.”

Feyre wasn’t prepared for sudden wave of jealousy that seized her. _Rhys._ To hear Lucien speak his name made it real. He was real.

“I don’t believe you,” Feyre said again, turning her face away, so she didn’t need to look at Lucien anymore. “Can I go home now, please? Looking at you makes me sick!”

Lucien produced a strangled sound and Feyre forced her eyes closed. She refused to feel pity for him. He deserved none.

“Tell me what I can do, Feyre. What can I do to fix this? I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

“So you could fuck me?” she whispered, tears escaping from under her closed eyelids. “Congratulations. You won. You got what you wanted. Now leave me alone.”

“Cauldron, Feyre.”

Feyre felt something heavy in her lap. She couldn’t resist - she opened her eyes. Lucien had buried his face in her lap, his shoulders trembling. Her skirt was growing damp. _He is crying_ , she realized.

“This isn’t just about fucking you!” he whispered, his voice hoarse from tears. “It’s about me not being able to stop thinking about you!”

Feyre looked down at him, something folding painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, desperately so. She wanted to believe, that she meant something to him. Something more than a good lay.

_Because you idiot fell in love with him_ , she scolded herself.

That was what their game has been. Seduction, making the other take notice of them, making them unable to think about anything but them.

But she couldn’t believe Lucien. She didn’t trust him anymore. But there was one thing, she could do.

“Lucien.”

He raised his head, his cheeks glistening with tears. Absentmindedly, she brushed them away.

“Take me to meet your boyfriend.”

* * *

“You sure you want to do this?” Lucien asked again, when Feyre climbed back into the front seat.

She shot him a glare. “You’re not getting out of this, Lucien. I’m meeting him!”

Lucien answered her glare with a dry smile. “That’s not what I meant. And by the way, Rhys will be delighted to finally meet you. He’s been nagging me to introduce you to him for a while now.” He waved at the bag she was holding. “I meant changing in my car.”

Feyre fixed him with an impassive glare. “You saw me bend over and butt naked on a conference table not even an hour ago. You think, I care about undressing in front of you?”

Without further ado, Feyre unzipped her cursed skirt and wiggled out of it. Lucien politely averted his eyes and instead watched the road, pulling out of parking and weaving into the traffic. Shoving the skirt into the shopping bag, she exchanged it for a pair of comfy, casual jeans.

Feyre had asked Lucien to stop at the next clothing store on their way to his boyfriend's place - which also happened to be Lucien’s place. Really, it was a damn miracle Feyre’s teeth hadn’t crumbled under the force with which she pressed them together. She had wanted to get out of the skirt that had bothered her the whole day and was now soiled with Lucien’s tears and her tainted memories of their sexual escapades.

Feyre wholeheartedly and loudly cursed the day, she’d decided to continue wearing dresses to seduce Lucien. She made sure, he heard her.  

The tag was still attached to the pants, so she tugged at it hard, waiting for the thin plastic strap to surrender. When it did, her elbow shot out with some force and hit Lucien square in the chest.

“Ouch!” he remarked, rubbing the sore spot.

“Oops, not sorry!” Feyre clipped, pulling on the jeans.

Lucien shot her a dirty look. She flipped him off and buttoned up.

Stopping at a red light, Lucien faced her. “You know that you behaving like this actually turns me on, don’t you?”

“I’m not in the mood, Lucien!” Feyre said tersely.

Huffing a frustrated breath, Lucien focused on the street again. Feyre wouldn’t give in to his cheap seduction attempts anymore. He was not getting away with cheating on his boyfriend with her. She’d make sure of it.

Not long after, Lucien pulled into a basement garage. Parking the car on what Feyre assumed was his parking lot, he killed the engine, but he didn’t get out just yet.

“Feyre,” he began.

“Don’t!” she warned. “You’ve said your piece. Now I want to hear his side!”

Lucien looked at her and swallowed. He nodded. But before she could get out, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.

“I just want you to know, that I like you. A lot. I never meant to hurt you.”

Feyre’s heart squeezed tight and gave a little flutter, but she pulled her hand from his.

“Well, it’s a damn shame you did then!” she snarled, opening her door.

Lucien ran a hand over his face and got out as well.

“This way!” They walked towards an elevator and together they rode up in silence. He led her down a hallway and unlocked the door to his apartment without hesitation.

“Rhys, you home?” he yelled the moment he’d closed the door.

“Welcome home, babe!” a dark, purring voice responded.

_Babe_. Feyre flinched. Really, why was she doing this to herself?

A tall figure appeared in a doorway to her right, only dressed in sweatpants, toweling his damp hair.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat. He was even more stunning in real life than in the picture; probably the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Swirling tattoos graced his well-defined pectorals all the way to his broad shoulders. He was all hard angles and planes: from his flat, chiseled stomach to his sharp jaw and cheekbones. Dark blue eyes peeked out from under the towel he was rubbing over his head, contrasting with his inky-black hair and golden-brown skin.

_Damn. How am I going to compete with someone like that?_

Feyre mentally slapped herself. Why would she even want to compete with Lucien’s boyfriend?

The boyfriend - Rhys - noticed Feyre and eyed her curiously. “Hello, darling. You I don’t know, but I’d like to.”

He smirked at her in a way that had her blush. Feyre was disgusted with herself. Not enough, that she’d slept with a man that was taken, now she was blushing for his boyfriend?

Feyre took a deep breath, steadying herself, and straightened her shoulders.

“My name’s Feyre and I fucked your boyfriend today. I thought you’d like to know.”

Rhys blinked at her in surprise, huffing a dry laugh, and then turned to Lucien. “Is she _that_ Feyre?”

Lucien gave him a terse nod. And then, to Feyre’s utter and complete astonishment, Rhys threw his head back and barked a laugh. “I can totally see why you like her, babe. Congrats on finally getting laid!”

Lucien sighed and shook his head. “I told you, Feyre.”

“Wait what? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Feyre sputtered, glaring at Rhys. “I slept with your boyfriend!” She pointed her finger at Lucien, just in case Rhys didn’t know, whom she was talking about.

“Ah, yes, about time, I’d say,” Rhys chuckled and continued to towel-dry his hair. “He’s been gushing about you for months. And he was growing a bit frustrated lately. Not to say - hard.”

Lucien groaned. “Really, Rhysand?”

Feyre was confused. “Why are you okay with this?” she asked Rhys - Rhysand.

He shot her a level look. “Why shouldn’t I be? He’s never made a secret about having an interest in you. I actually know quite a lot about you, since Luce here won’t shut up. You’re all he talks about after work.”

Lucien made a sound like a dying animal, muttering something under his breath Feyre couldn’t hear.

“But he’s your boyfriend! He shouldn’t be sleeping with other people!” she claimed furiously.

Something flickered behind Rhys eyes, but it was gone so fast, Feyre might’ve imagined it.

“We are in an open relationship. I’m okay with him sleeping with other people,” he said calmly.

The anger rushed out of Feyre like a balloon deflating, leaving behind enough empty space for her sorrow and hurt to rush in and finally make itself felt.

“But I’m not,” she choked out, admitting a truth she had just come to realize that moment. This fast, she was crying again. Impatiently, she wiped at her cheeks. Alarmed by her tears, Lucien tried to hug her, but she fought off his arms.

Rhysand directed a dark gaze at his boyfriend. “Lucien, what have you done?”

But Lucien just shook his head, too concerned for Feyre to answer him. He tried again to pull her into his arms, but this time, she shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me! I - I can’t! I don’t want you to touch me,” she cried. Lucien looked crestfallen.

Rhysand quickly closed the distance between them. Hadn’t she been so heartbroken, she would’ve been intimidated by the hard gaze he leveled on Lucien. But when Rhysand turned to her, his gaze was soft and full of compassion. He pulled the damp towel from his shoulders and dropped it on Feyre’s head, shielding her face from sight. And then he pulled her to his bare chest, cradling her head and stroking her back in a soothing caress.

“It’s okay. Cry all you want, Feyre darling. He won’t touch you,” he purred soothingly. “I’ll make sure of that.”

And Feyre knew it was bizarre to let herself be consoled by Lucien’s boyfriend, the man, who was the root of her sorrow, but she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his hard chest. And then she broke down completely.

Change in the game. New player enters.


	6. Chapter 6

“Here!”

Rhysand held out a glass of water for her. Feyre eyed it wearily.

“Do you maybe have something stronger?”

He studied her for a long moment, maybe pondering whether she would keel over if he served her alcohol, and then put the waterglass down on the coffee table. “Sure, just a second, darling.”

Rhysand went to the kitchen and returned a minute later with a large bowl of ice, a towel and an empty tumbler, placing everything on the coffee table. He pulled a fancy cristal bottle filled with amber liquid from a cabinet in the corner and poured out a healthy measure into the tumbler, adding an ice cube.

“Whiskey okay?” he asked, holding out the beverage to Feyre.

She nodded her thanks and took it, downing the whole glass in one go. The whiskey burned in her throat and she had to cough, but she welcomed the sting. She could feel the drink burning it’s way down to her stomach, spreading warmth in her chest and entering her bloodstream, a tingling sensation that reached even her fingertips. She relaxed deeper into the couch and held the glass out pleadingly for Rhys for a refill.

He shot her a concerned look. “Only if you promise to drink the second one slower.”

Feyre nodded. She couldn’t be bothered speaking. Her throat was raw from whiskey and crying.

She didn’t know how long she had cried against Rhysand’s chest, but it had taken a good long while for all the anger, frustration and humiliation she had build up during the last months to make its way out of her in form of blistering tears and ragged sobs. Lucien’s boyfriend hadn’t commented on it, he’d just held her in a warm embrace for however long she needed it.

After Feyre had calmed down slightly and her tears had abated, he had led her to the couch in their living room, where she now sat, purposefully ignoring Lucien, who sat on a nearby armchair, looking every bit as remorseful as he should.

Rhysand fixed her another drink and then put some ice cubes into a plastic ziplock bag, wrapping it into the towel he had brought with him from the kitchen earlier, and handed the makeshift ice bag to Lucien, so he could nurse his swollen cheek. The handprint Feyre had left on it was still bright red.

“You know, Lucien, as much as it hurts me to see you in pain, I’m somehow under the impression that you earned that slap, considering the state poor Feyre is in,” Rhysand drawled.

Lucien took the bag, pressing it to his cheek and breathing out with a hiss when the cold ice made contact with his bruised skin. “I’m afraid, you are right. I earned it.”

He looked at Feyre while he said it, but she turned away her face. She didn’t want to look at him.

Rhysand looked between the two of them, leaning back onto the couch and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Anyone care to explain, what happened today?”

Feyre made an encouraging gesture at Lucien without looking at him and continued sipping her drink. She had said her piece for today. Now it was Lucien’s turn to confess his sins.

“Feyre and I slept together today,” Lucien confirmed for Rhysand. “And afterwards, she saw our photo on my phone and got upset.”

Feyre gave little snort. Upset didn’t nearly cover it.

“Ok. But why would you get upset about a photo of me and Lucien, Feyre? I’m sure, he must’ve mentioned me before?” Rhysand asked her with a little confused frown.

Feyre shot him a bitter smile and realization dawned on Rhysand’s face. He turned to Lucien, shooting him a disbelieving stare. “You never told her about me?”

Lucien averted his gaze, this face twisting into a grimace of shame and hurt. “No, I didn’t.”

Rhysand slowly raised himself, so he was standing, looking down on Lucien. He schooled his face into a careful mask of cool indifference, but his voice cut like sharp knives.

“So in all the months that you have been pursuing Feyre and telling me about it in great detail, you have failed to mention to her, that you are in a relationship with me?”

Lucien closed his eyes. “I was afraid she wouldn’t want me, once she found out I was bi.”

Rhysand kept staring at Lucien, his impassive face more frightening than if he had shouted or screamed. He turned to Feyre and she flinched slightly. Rhysand looked scary.

“You only found out afterwards?” he asked her. Feyre nodded and took another hasty sip of liquid courage. “And the reason you are so upset after finding out is, because you actually have feelings for this idiot, am I right?”

Feyre opened her mouth to deny it, but she couldn’t. She _did_ have feelings for Lucien. Else, she wouldn’t be this… _upset_. So she gave another, hesitant nod.

“Feyre!”

Lucien stared at her in wonderous disbelief. He looked like he was about to get up and come over to her, but Rhysand deterred him with a single, sharp look. Lucien bit his lip and sunk back into his armchair, staring at her longingly. Feyre glowered right back.

“Don’t let it get to your head!” she snapped, her voice cracked and raw from crying earlier.

Rhysand closed his eyes and clenched and unclenched his fists, his jaw locked. He was really pissed. Feyre couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre told Rhysand. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have slept with him.”

He opened his eyes and Feyre balked at the rage she saw in them. But Rhysand blinked and it was gone. “ _You_ have nothing to apologize for, darling. _You_ did nothing wrong. Lucien should’ve told you.”

Feyre shook her head. “Still, I slept with him, although he’s with you.”

Rhysand looked at her for a moment longer and then turned to Lucien. “Can you leave us alone for a minute? Better even, can you can get out? I really don’t feel like seeing your face right now.”

Lucien returned Rhysand’s impassive glare with pleading eyes. “Hon,” he choked. “Please don’t do this.”

“No, please,” Feyre cried panicky. “I don’t want to be the reason you fight. I don’t want you to break up over this!”

New tears spilled from her eyes. Really, where was she keeping all of them? She hadn’t cried this much in years.

Rhysand made his way over to Feyre and sat down next to her on the couch, wiping away at her tears.

“I won’t break up with him over this. But I’m really pissed at him. Not because he slept with you, but because he didn’t provide you with all the information he should have. He took away a choice from you. This is a matter of consent. Lucien withheld certain information, because he knew or at least suspected you’d never consented to sex with him, if he had told you about me. And this is something, I don’t take lightly, as he very well knows.”

He shot Lucien another glare, and this time, he let his rage show. Lucien blanched and withered under the gaze, sinking deeper into his armchair, face aghast.

“Oh my god, you’re right. I’m so sorry Feyre.” Lucien ran a hand over his face and then covered his mouth. “What I did was disgusting.” He got up and took a deep breath. “I sincerely apologize. To the both of you. What I did was selfish and cruel. I didn't think about the two of you, only about myself. I am deeply sorry.”

Feyre inhaled shakily and Rhysand nodded. “Thank you for your apology. Now get out.”

Lucien followed suit and left, not without another remorseful look in their direction. His shoulders were slumped, but he walked with a determined stride. When they heard the front door click shut, Feyre and Rhysand both let out a breath of relief about the fact that he was gone. And despite the weird situation they were in, Feyre eyed Rhysand curiously.

“So you’re really okay with him sleeping with me?” she asked.

Rhysand regarded her contemplative. “I don’t mind you sleeping with him once or twice, but that’s not all that you want, isn’t it?

Feyre downed the rest of her drink and put away the glass. She rubbed her face with her hands.

“I don’t know. I’m so confused,” she confessed. For some weird reason, she didn’t feel awkward spilling the beans to Lucien’s boyfriend. Maybe, because she thought, he deserved nothing but the whole truth. Maybe, because despite him claiming otherwise, Feyre refused to believe he was unfazed by Lucien sleeping with her.

“I didn’t even want to admit to myself that I like him until earlier. To be honest, I don’t know what I want.” Feyre took her hands from her face and saw the black smudges on them, probably her mascara. “By the Cauldron, I must look like a mess,” she groaned.

Rhysand gave her a little smile. “Still a pretty mess, if I may say.”

Feyre laughed weakly and shook her head. “It’s so weird that you comfort me. I mean after all this!” She made a waving motion with her hand, trying to encompass their whole sticky situation with the helpless gesture. “You don’t even know me.”

Rhysand angled his head to the side and gave her a smirk. The one that had her blush before. The one that made her blush now.

“Oh? But I feel like I know you pretty well? As I said before, Lucien is talking about you nonstop. I dare say, you are not the only one who has feelings for a certain someone.”

Feyre looked hard at Rhysand. He was still smirking, but something in his eyes told her, he was hurt.

“That’s the part you’re not okay with, isn’t it? Him having feelings for me?” she understood.

Rhysand didn’t stop smirking, but his eyelids fluttered for a second, betraying the emotion the was trying to hide. They kept staring at each other, but then Rhysand sighed and turned away, staring off at the distance.

“Lucien and I may be in an open relationship, but we have one rule: No relationship but ours. It’s fine to hook up with others, as long as it’s only sex without feelings.”

Feyre swallowed. “But that’s not the case here.”

“No, it’s certainly not.” Rhysand raked a hand through his hair. “From the first time he told me about you, I could tell this would be more than a hookup. He’s crushing on you. Hard. Always has been.”

They fell silent for a bit. What were they supposed to do now? Sure, Feyre was developing feelings for Lucien, but she could squash them, ignore them, beat them down before they grew stronger. They’d only known each other for a few months. Rhysand and Lucien - they had a life together. They lived together. She didn’t want to be the one to destroy their relationship. She didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

“I won’t be taking him away from you,” she declared.

Rhysand turned to her in surprise.

“I’m ending... this… whatever this is between him and me,” Feyre elaborated. “The project we’re working on is close to being finished anyways and then I’ll ask to be relocated within the company. If needed, I’ll quit my job. This way, I won’t have to see him again and I’ll be out of your way.”

“And why would you do that?” Rhysand asked with raised eyebrows. “Why do you think you’re the one who needs to change positions? Lucien’s in the wrong here.”

Feyre shook her head vigorously. She couldn’t shake the feeling, that somehow, she was to blame for all of this. If she hadn’t responded to him the way she had, if they hadn’t played the little games they had, if she hadn’t encouraged him today...

“Hey, hey!” Rhysand scooted closer when he saw her freaking out, propping his finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You can’t be blamed for what you feel. It’s not like you have a choice about who you like. It happens.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked desperately. “You should hate me!”

Rhysand brushed away a wayward strand of hair that had fallen into her face.

“Do you know, that Lucien comes home every night, telling me everything about all your petty and utterly adorable little fights? How you make him squirm and fret and secretly laugh? And the way he looks when he tells me about them - he has the dorkiest smile on his face.” Rhysand’s own smile turned wistful. “Lucien is not the easiest person. He has many scars, and not only those that show. But somehow that twisted little game that you’re playing - it makes him happy. How could I hate the person, who makes him happy and keeps the darkness he carries within him at bay?”

Feyre opened her mouth - and then closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. How did one respond to a declaration of love of that magnitude? The way Rhysand loved Lucien was strange and deep and she could feel and see it in the way he talked about him, even when he was currently angry at him. It was nothing she was used to or ever experienced. It made her envious. How it must feel to be loved like this!

“He talks about you so much, I feel like I already know you,” Rhysand continued. “And I find myself intrigued by you. So much, that I was seconds away from dropping by your office to have a look several times actually.”

When he noticed Feyre staring at him in surprise, he smiled - a true, honest smile. “I was really looking forward to meeting you, darling.”

“Do you usually meet Lucien’s hookups?” she asked defensively.

“I think we have established that you’re not some hookup, Feyre.” He shook his head at her impatiently and then studied her face again, brushing his finger over her brow, trying to smooth out her frown. The touch lingered on her skin even after he retracted his fingers. ”When you had that ‘date’ that turned out to be none, Lucien was almost out of his mind with jealousy. He was also worried sick. As was I.” Rhysand looked deep into her eyes. “You know, hearing so much about you every day, I might have developed a silly, little crush on you, too, Feyre darling.”

Feyre stared blankly at Rhysand. And then she started laughing. “Right. I deserved that! I slept with your boyfriend, you get to make fun of me. I almost believed you there.”

She kept laughing, but when Rhysand didn’t join her, her amusement faded as quickly as it had come. “You can’t be serious!”

Rhysand cocked an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Why not?” he purred.

“You - I mean. I can’t! With you. I mean... Lucien! I like him!” she stammered.

“So?” Rhysand looked way too amused. “I’m not asking you to do anything or choose between me and him. I’m just telling you, I can understand why Lucien feels so captivated by you. Because I find myself being captivated too. So no, I don’t hate you. And I’m being nice to you, because Lucien has been an utter ass and you didn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Feyre blushed heavily and cast her eyes down. “Thank you,” she murmured shyly.

“No, thank you. For coming here and telling me. That was really brave.”

Rhysand reached over and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing softly. Feyre kept her gaze trained on their intertwined fingers.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of him cheating on you. If someone cheated on me, I’d want to know.”

“He didn’t cheat on me though. I knew about you and that it would happen. So you needn’t feel bad about it,” Rhysand reckoned.

Feyre looked up to him and met his open gaze. _Violet._ His eyes were such a deep blue, they looked violet. “Still, I feel like I should make amends somehow.”

“Well then, darling,” he purred, a spark entering his violet gaze. “I know how you could make amends.”

“How?” she asked, suddenly very much afraid of the answer.

A dangerous smile bloomed on Rhysand’s face.

“Go on a date with me!”

 Feyre 3 - Lucien 2 - Rhys 1


	7. Chapter 7

_This was a mistake_ , Feyre thought when she checked herself out in the mirror. Her horrified expression stared tight back at her. _This was most certainly a mistake._

It was Saturday night and Rhysand was about to pick her up. For their date. That she had agreed to. Because she felt bad for sleeping with his boyfriend.

After she had agreed on the date, Rhysand and her had talked some more, until Feyre felt stable enough to be brought home. She had gone to the doctor’s the next day to get a note for work. The doctor had taken one look at her sallow face and red-rimmed eyes and had written her a note for the rest of the week.

She had stayed at home, sleeping for most of the time. And when she didn’t, she attacked her canvases with frightening vigor, painting like she hadn’t in a long while, mostly using a dark, monochromatic palette that fit her current melancholic mood.

Lucien had written her once, asking her how she was and if they could talk, but after she had asked him to leave her alone for now, he had. She didn’t know, how she would face him on Monday. She couldn’t stay away from work any longer, but she dreaded seeing him.

But maybe not as much as she dreaded this date with Rhysand that was about to happen any minute now.

Collapsing on her bed, Feyre put her head in her hands, careful not to smudge her make-up, that she had put a lot of effort into. Why exactly, she didn’t know. To impress Rhysand? Why would she care about impressing him? To prove a point, why Lucien might be interested in her? She had been a fucking mess the last time they saw each other, crying and freaking out like she had.

She was startled out of her misery by the doorbell. _Shit._ Feyre threw one last, quick look in the mirror and then grabbed her clutch and went straight for the door. She took a deep breath and then opened it.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey!”

Rhysand had donned what she already called his usual smirk, but when he looked at her, the smirk vanished and he gave her a very obvious, very appreciative once-over. When he raised his gaze back to hers, a soft smile grazed his lips.

“You’re looking beautiful, Feyre darling,” he said quietly.

Feyre blushed massively and pointed vaguely at his own attire. “You look very nice as well today!”

Rhysand chuckled darkly and the sound made her blush a bit harder. “Not hard after I didn’t wear much the other day.”

Rhysand was dressed all black: black slacks and black button-down, probably tailor made by the way it hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Simple, but chic. Feyre had opted for her petrol dress, just because she knew it looked good on her. Okay, maybe she wanted to impress Rhysand just a little bit. She had obviously succeeded in doing so, because he was staring hard at her, his gaze dropping to her lips, that were painted a deep, rich plum shade that complimented her steely blue-grey eyes. Feyre had went full out Sophia Vegara on him: sparse eye make-up, bold lips, open, wavy hair.

“You know, I can’t blame Lucien for lusting after you, if that’s how you show up like at work.”

Gosh, was there any way for her blush to blush? She should’ve put on more foundation.

“I don’t go to work like this,” she conceded softly and pulled the door shut behind her, turning to lock it. There was no way she’d spent an hour curling her long hair for an everyday workday. Or deal with all the make-up.

“So you dressed up for me? I’m flattered,” Rhysand purred somewhere close to her ear. “I retract my earlier statement. You don’t look beautiful, you look absolutely delicious, darling.”

Gosh, was that his normal behavior, or was he laying it on thick? She wouldn’t survive the evening, at this rate. Straightening her shoulders, she gave herself a little push. She could do this. This was no different from sparring with Lucien.

Turning around, she gave him a challenging smile.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Rhysand. I merely thought, I should make an effort, so I didn’t offend the general public in whatever restaurant you choose to take me,” she baited.

Rhysand touched his chest like he had been shot, giving a mock gasp, but eyes lit up like bonfires at her words. “There you are. I’ve been looking for the Feyre in the stories.” Holding out his arms for her, he asked, “Shall we go, milady?”

* * *

“So where did you and Lucien meet?”

Rhysand set down his fork, that had been halfway to his mouth, and shot her a wry look.

“You’re on a date with me and yet you want to talk about our mutual love interest?” he mocked. “I do have to say, that stings.”

“What else would we talk about?” Feyre asked incredulously. “You claimed to know me already, did you forget? So I’m trying to get to know you. And the one thing I know about you is that you are Lucien’s boyfriend. I’m starting from there.”

Rhysand actually chuckled in response and shoved a piece of steak into his mouth, observing her closely while he chewed.

“Lucien once told me, you’re pricklier than a rose.” He smirked at her, reaching for his wine. “It’s true!”

“Are you calling me unlikeable?” Feyre shot back.

Rhysand sipped his wine leisurely while he kept watching her, his eyes dancing with amusement. Now that he was not half-dressed and in emotional turmoil, Feyre found him cocky and arrogant. He carried himself with a self-assuredness she envied. It made her feel the strong urge to best him. _Same as with Lucien_ , a mean voice whispered to her. Clearly, she was having a problem. Or a type, depending on how you’d define it.

“On the contrary,” Rhysand declared, setting down his glass. “From what I’ve heard - and also what I’ve seen so far - you’re smart and witty. And you have a sharp tongue. All qualities I find highly attractive,” he purred.

Feyre rolled her eyes at him and hastily took a sip of her own wine. _Yeah, right_. But then again, he was dating Lucien, and that guy sure was snarky as hell.

“So you’re with Lucien, because of his sharp tongue?” she inquired.

Rhysand shot her a bemused look. “Actually, yes. I met him during negotiations for a business merger. I kept the negotiations going longer than necessary, because it was just so much fun to see him come up with all that clever insults he flung my way.”

“You’re kidding.”

Rhysand laughed - a rich, rolling sound that cause a weird little rush of excitement in her. “I’m not. We flirted the hell out of that negotiations. Made everyone who was with us in that room very uncomfortable. You can ask him.”

Feyre cast her eyes down, her mood plummeting immediately. “I haven’t talked to him... since.”

A warm hand wrapped around hers and Feyre looked up to find Rhysand looking at her with a solemn face. Gone was the arrogant, cocky behavior - this was him as he been last time: serious, caring, maybe even defenseless. She was not the only one Lucien had hurt. Open relationship or not, Lucien had not once mentioned Rhysand to her. Feyre was sure, he must feel wounded by this.

“Do you want to talk about why you haven’t talked to him?” he asked softly.

Feyre retracted her hand and reached for her wine glass again. “No.”

Rhysand nodded and pulled his hand back. They continued eating in silence. By the time they were done with their main course, the silence was grating on Feyre’s nerves. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Well, she actually had no idea how a date with your crush’s boyfriend was supposed to go in general and what she had actually expected to happen, but certainly not this awkward, depressing silence.

“Rhysand?” Feyre didn’t look at him, but instead watched the waiter, who had come to take away their plates.

Rhysand gave a mock sigh. “Rhysand, really? You wound me so, darling.”

“Rhys then,” Feyre relented with a little eye roll. “Why go on a date with me, Rhys?”

She still didn’t look at him, but played with the stem of her wineglass. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, silent for a minute or so. Feyre could feel that he was watching her, trying to come up with an answer.

“I told you, that I’m crushing a bit on you because of all the things Lucien told me,” he began.

“Ah, yes.” Feyre blushed a little, being embarrassed.

“It’s one thing to hear stories, but another to meet the person herself. And you exactly what  I expected when you showed up that day - but then again, you were so different from what I expected too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Does that make sense?”

Feyre snickered a bit and finally looked at him. “No! I’m afraid, it doesn’t.”

Rhys rubbed his lips hiding his own smile.  “Ok, then let me explain with an example: I knew you must be pretty by how Lucien described you, but seeing you with my own eyes -” his eyes glided over her features like a caress, “even when you were a crying mess, you were breathtaking. You are even more so now.”

Feyre’s own breath was stolen from her. How could he just tell her something like this to her face? She blushed hard and looked away.

“I expected you to be pretty, just not for you to have this impact on me,” he continued, entirely unfazed despite the embarrassing things he said. “I also expected you to be feisty and confident and you are. But I wasn’t expecting you to be that vulnerable and heartbroken. And so incredibly uncomfortable, when receiving compliments, judging by the color of your cheeks.”

He laughed softly and Feyre shot him a death glare, trying to cool her heated cheeks with the back of her hands. “Why is that, darling? Is it the things I said, or that I said them at all?”

“Both,” she admitted grumpily. “I don’t get many compliments.”

“Ah!,” Rhys leaned forwards, bracing his arms on the table. “That is a lie if I’d ever heard one.”

“No, It’s true!” Feyre gave a helpless little laugh.

Rhys studied her thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s because you don’t let them? Compliment you, I mean.”

Feyre actually thought about that for a minute. “You might be right.” she eventually admitted.

“See, another thing I didn’t expect - you admitting defeat that easily!” Rhys gave her a wide smile.

She sighed and gave a nod. “Yes, something must definitely be wrong with me.”

“Well, I guess, we know who is to blame for that.” A little edge had crept into his smile. “Somehow, we always keep coming back to him, don't we?”

Feyre fell silent again, as the waiters appeared with their dessert and refilled their wine glasses. She thanked them with an absentminded smile and reached for her glass.

“I haven’t spoken to him, because I don’t think I can. Not yet, anyways, I’m still too…”

She didn’t need to explain any further. Rhys understood.

“Would it cheer you up to know, I’m not talking to him either?” Feyre made big eyes at Rhys and he flashed her a grim smile. “I’ve actually kicked him out for the time being. We talked after I brought you home that day and he apologized again, but I wanted some space - to think.”

Guilt and remorse surged up within her. She had caused this! Because she had slept with Lucien. Rhys took one look at her face and reached for her hand again. This time, she didn’t pull away.

“Don’t. This is not your fault. I’m not blaming you!” he consoled her. “I’ll probably forgive him, you know - eventually.”

“Because you love him?”

Feyre regretted the question as soon as she asked it, flinching slightly. She really didn’t want to hear his answer.

Rhys’ eyes danced with wry amusement. “Does it hurt to stab yourself with your own words?”

“Very!” Feyre confirmed, nodding.

And then, surprisingly, they both started laughing. Really, the whole situation was just too damn weird. But strangely, Rhys made her feel comfortable.

“How about we don’t talk about Lucien for now?” she proposed, still holding his hand. “Let’s just, get to know each other? Like a real, first date?”

“I would love that, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, his gaze warm and open. “My name is Rhysand Nash and I work a super boring corporate job that’s not suspicious or borderline illegal at all, making other people’s lives miserable. But please, call me Rhys. And who might you be?”

“Feyre Archeron,” she replied with a giggle. A _giggle!_

Rhys’ smile deepened, a dimple she hadn’t noticed so far deepening on his cheek. It was cute. Frighteningly so.

“Please to meet you, Feyre darling.”

 Feyre 3 - Lucien 2 - Rhys 2


	8. Chapter 8

“Another glass?” Rhys asked, wiggling the bottle of fancy Pinot Noir they had been drinking.

“Sure,” Feyre smiled and held out her glass for him.

Rhys refilled both of their glasses and then settled back onto the couch with her, one arm propped up on the back of the couch, his fingers dangerously close to her shoulder. He could easily touch her, if he wanted.

After they had decided to put the topic of Lucien aside for a moment, they’d hit it off pretty well. So well actually, they didn't want their date to end when it had only really begun at dessert. So Rhys had proposed they come back to his place and talk some more. To her own surprise, Feyre had agreed.

Now they were sitting on his couch, sharing a bottle of wine and insights to their lives, and Feyre felt comfortably drowsy, a bit tipsy, and alarmingly attracted to Lucien’s boyfriend. 

With every minute longer they spent sitting next to each other, he was inching closer towards her. Or maybe she imagined it, because she wished he would. At some point, Feyre had simply abandoned trying to think about their messed up situation or the norms society dictated - after all, if she were going by these standards, she shouldn't be on a date like this in the first place. So instead, Feyre just decided to throw all the _can't_ s and _shouldn't_ s out of the window and just go with the flow, reacting to his shameless flirting and advances by instinct.

And those, she certainly wasn't imagining. Rhys _was_ flirting with her.

“Are you planning to get me drunk?” Feyre asked coyly, eyeing her wine and then Rhys from under her lashes.

Rhys smirked, inching a bit closer, his fingers lightly brushing over her shoulder. So she hadn’t imagined it, he really had been creeping closer. The light touch of his fingers sent a spark of excitement rushing through her. Her arousal stirred it's head, waking from its slumber.

“Do I need to get you drunk?” he purred.

“Depends on what your planning to do with me,” she said with a challenging smile.

Rhys’ eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. He ran his knuckles up and down her bare upper arm and leaned in.

“I can imagine a great many things I could do to you, Feyre darling. All entirely inappropriate for a first date,” he whispered into her ear.

His voice felt as much of a caress as his fingers on her shoulder, making her nipples pinch. _Fuck!_

“You and Lucien, you are dangerous,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over Rhys’ shapely lips, pressing the pad of her pointer finger against his Cupid’s bow and then into the dimple on his cheek, that formed as he smirked down at her.

“How so, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked bemused.

“Every sane person would stay away, yet here I am, on a date with the the boyfriend of my office crush whom I had sex with.”

Saying it aloud, it sounded even more bizarre. Rhys angled his head questiongly. It gave him a slightly predatory look. _So dangerous_.

He and Lucien, they were both like wild animals - deadly, but gorgeous. And if Lucien was a fox - sly and feral - Rhys was a panther: elegant, feline, breathtaking, even while he pounced and sunk his teeth into you, snapping your neck.

Rhys’ broad hand slid around her waist and he tugged her closer. Feyre’s heart pounded so hard in her chest, if you looked closely, you could see the fabric of her dress vibrating with each frantic heartbeat. She was high on arousal and adrenaline. She was a junkie, and Rhys was her next fix.

“Does it scare you?” he purred.

“No. But it should.”

His eyes danced with feline amusement and he leaned in, brushing his lips over her cheek. Feyre inhaled sharply, a familiar dull ache pounding hard in her belly.

“Rhys! What are you doing?” she whispered shocked.

“What does it look like?” he purred into her ear.

“Like you’re kissing me.”

Rhys let out a low chuckle. “Darling, if I was kissing you, you’d know.”

Feyre didn’t know what made her do it: her wish to find out, what Lucien saw in him? Why he loved him? Her petty urge to get back at Lucien somehow; to get even? Or maybe simply the desire to be kissed and to give in to the attraction she most certainly felt for Rhys. Maybe all of it mixed together.

Whatever it was, it made her close her eyes and present her face to him. And then she felt Rhys’ lips on hers.

It was a slow, deliberate kiss, but no less intense than the bruising kisses she’d shared with Lucien. When he exhaled softly into her mouth, it felt like he breathed fire right into her. The kiss was soul-scorching, it made her burn alive from the inside out. Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck - only then remembering the wine glass she was still holding. She hastily broke away, afraid she’d spilled wine on him.

“Sorry, did I go too far?” Rhys asked with quiet concern.

“No. The wine glass,” Feyre explained, putting it on the coffee table. “I forgot I was holding it.”

She turned her face back to Rhys, taking him in. They stared at each other, trying to make out what the other was thinking.

They were undoubtedly attracted to one another, their chemistry was off the charts. It had been, ever since they decided to focus on themselves instead on Lucien. The kiss had been fantastic, leaving Feyre to want more. But they were both also in love with Lucien. And Rhys was his boyfriend and she was… whatever it was that Lucien wanted from her. Or Rhys, it seemed.

“What a dodgy little mess we’re in,” she deadpanned.

One corner of his mouth curled upwards into a crooked smile. “Indeed.”

And then he pulled her towards him and Feyre let go of all thoughts and readily succumbed to his searing kisses.

* * *

 

“Would you believe me, if I say, that, despite how complicated this all is, I greatly enjoyed myself tonight?”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Feyre noticed him shifting towards her in the driver seat, looking at her. They were sitting in his car in front of Feyre’s apartment complex, unwilling to let the evening end. After they had spent a good long hour making out, doing nothing more than sharing slow, blistering kisses that stole her breath and that had her melt her down to the point of being unable to even move a limb of her own, Rhys had driven her home. Now she sat in the passenger seat of his car, slowly trying to come back to planet earth.

“Yes,” Feyre breathed, meeting his violet eyes with hers. “I did enjoy myself, too.”

Rhys held her gaze as he leaned in, hesitating a moment to see whether Feyre would pull away. But when she wouldn’t, he slid one hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and frenched her, very slowly and very intensely. Feyre went pliant and gave herself over to the sensation completely. His mouth was addictive. The way he kissed should be forbidden.

When he broke the kiss, Feyre made a little sound of protest and Rhys chuckled softly, pressing an apologetic kiss to her forehead. The message was clear: this was all she was getting from him tonight.

“I’d like to see you again like this, Feyre darling,” he murmured. “Do you?”

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” Feyre stared up into the violet depths of his eyes. They were flecked with silver. She hadn’t noticed before. They were beautiful. He was.

Rhys studied her face for a moment longer and then gave her a faint smile. “It’s confusing, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Feyre confirmed.

He kissed her eyebrow again and Feyre closed her eyes, letting his scent and warmth wash over her. She wished it were easier. That he wasn’t Lucien’s and that she wasn’t attracted to the both of them.

“Call me, when you feel ready,” he said softly and released her. “I’ll wait.”

Feyre gave him a nod and got out of the car. She didn’t turn around until she had unlocked the front door to her building and waved him goodbye. He took off with screeching tires.

Feyre barely noticed her surroundings while she made her way up to her apartment, her mind still with Rhys. Would she want to meet with him again? Then what of Lucien? She didn’t want to be the reason they fought or broke up. But she also couldn’t stay away from them. They were like the light, and she was a moth. Or maybe the other way round, seeing that both of them were chasing after her? Rhys had gotten his date with her in apology for her sleeping with Lucien. And now he wanted another. What would Lucien say about that?

All these thoughts swirled in her head, while she climbed the stairs and walked down the hallways. Feyre was so lost in them, she walked right past her door. Cursing softly, she walked back - and stopped dead.

Two flowers lay on her doormat: a yellow hyacinth and some pink flower she didn’t know, bound together with a ribbon, card attached. Feyre picked them up and went straight for the card.

_Do I get to be pissed about this date?_

Feyre flushed, boiling with indignation and looked around, half-expecting Lucien to step out of a doorway somewhere. But of course, he wasn’t here anymore. Feyre eyed the flowers again. So he was pissed about her going on a date with Rhys. She laughed a bit helplessly and felt tears welling up. Feyre didn’t know how she was supposed to feel, it was honestly all too much.

Sniffling, she unlocked her door and unceremoniously dropped her purse right by the entry, before heading into the kitchen and looking for some container to use as a vase. She opted for a big beer mug. And then she stared at the flowers, trying to make sense of it all.

Was Lucien actually pissed at Rhys for taking her out, or at Feyre, for taking out Rhys?

She groaned and buried her face in her arms. She was so confused, her head was about to burst and tears prickling in her eyes. Staring at the flowers, one of them a flower she couldn’t even name, wasn’t helping.  At least, she knew how to settle this problem. Feyre snapped a picture of the flowers and sent the picture to her sister Elain, who happened to be a florist.

Feyre: _Hey sis, can you tell me, what this pink flower is?_

Her sister’s response came promptly.

Elain: _It’s a camellia. You have a guy I don’t know about?_

_Guess what Elain, seems like I have two_ , Feyre thought grimmly.

Feyre: _No, but why do you ask? Because I got flowers?_

Elain _: More like, because you got_ those _flowers._

Feyre frowned at the message. She didn’t get it.

Feyre: _What do you mean?_

Elain: _Pink camellia in the language of flowers mean “longing for you” <3_

Feyre felt her cheeks heat. _Damn you, Lucien._ She eyed the flowers again, the pink and yellow looking pretty together. Unconventional, but pretty. Lucien knew her so well.

Feyre grinded her teeth, annoyed with herself.

Feyre: _And what do hyacinths mean?_

Elain: _Depending on the color, they all have different meanings. But yellow hyacinths only have one._

Somehow, Feyre got the distinct impression, that her sister was enjoying herself way too much.

Feyre: _Care to share?_

She stared intently at the little dots as Elain typed, not daring to breathe.

Elain: _Jealousy ;)_

Feyre 3 - Lucien 3 - Rhys 3


	9. Chapter 9

Steeling herself by taking a deep breath, Feyre pushed open the door to her and Lucien’s office. She was nervous, which had caused her to work up a slight temper. After all, being angry was so much easier than being nervous or letting Lucien see, how hurt exactly she still was. Or admitting that she’d actually missed him and wanted to see him.

Lucien was already sitting at his desk, perking up the second she stepped through the door.

“Hi,” he greeted, almost shyly, observing her closely to gauge her mood.

“Hi,” she responded and hastily turned to her wardrobe, putting away her stuff.

And then she sat down at her desk that was facing him and studied him. Lucien did the same.

He looked tired, purple under-eye smudges were clearly visible beneath his golden tan. And his eyes were filled with so much sadness, it squeezed her heart tight. The fact that he very obviously really felt horrible for what he did eased some of the hurt. But it didn’t make her forgive him just yet. Especially not, when he had left those flowers for her to find, acting all jealous.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Rhys. I should have,” he began.

“Yes, you should have. I understand, why you did it, but that’s not an excuse.”

Lucien nodded. “I’m not trying to justify myself here. I know what I did was wrong. I just hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me at some point.”

Feyre had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t sob and blinked rapidly to fight back her tears. Damn, why was he having this much of an effect on her?

“Thank you,” she said after clearing her throat. “But I can’t forgive you just yet. I… I need time. It doesn’t help that we have to work together.”

“Or that you went on a date with Rhys,” Lucien added darkly.

Feyre felt her temper flare. “Really Lucien?” she snapped.

He immediately buried his face in his hands. “Shit, sorry. I’m just....” He raised his head to look at her, his face a mask of anguish. “This whole thing is driving me crazy. I know I’m the last person with rights to complain in this situation, but when Rhys informed me, you’d go on a date... I’m jealous of him, Feyre. I’m jealous of my boyfriend. I know I don’t have any right to be, but I am.”

He looked to lost, so forlorn, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She made her way over to him, rounding the table and sitting on his desk, letting her legs swing free. Lucien swallowed; they hadn’t been this close since she had broken down crying, refusing to be touched by him.

“I’m so angry at you,” she said quietly. “But I’m kinda happy you are jealous. I was jealous of Rhys, too.”

“Was?”

Feyre shrugged helplessly. “The date was nice. Rhys is nice. Right now, my emotions are all over the place. I don’t know, what I’m feeling anymore,” she admitted, fixing her attention on a button on his collar that was about to come loose.

Feyre reached out and testingly pulled at it. It came right off. They both stared at the button in her hand for a moment before Lucien gently took it from her and stowed it away in his pocket. His fingers had brushed her palm lightly when he'd picked up the button. Feyre could still feel a phantom trace of his touch on it.

“Do you like Rhys?”

“In a way,” she nodded.

“Do you like me?”

Feyre gave him a wry smirk. “In a way.”

Lucien growled and she laughed despairingly. “This sounds almost like one of our games, doesn’t it? Only, I feel like neither of us is winning anymore.”

Tentatively, Lucien reached out for her legs, clad in black slacks today, and wrapped one hand around her calf, squeezing it softly. “I never meant to win over you with these games.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Angling her head in question, she asked: “Then what was the purpose of playing them?”

“To win you over.” Lucien shot her a smile that was so miserable, she felt urge to wrap him into her arms and forgive him on the spot. And then maybe kiss him better. Instead, she sighed deeply and added wall of defense around her heart to fortify the one that was rapidly crumbling under his charming onslaught.

“And then when I didn’t give in right away, you kept going at it, until the both of us were in too deep to turn back, although you never meant to take it this far,” she suspected.

Lucien didn’t need to confirm she was right; his face betrayed him.

In her despair, Feyre could do nothing else but laugh. “Gosh, Lucien, you’re such an idiot.”

He smiled faintly. “So it seems.”

“The fox got beaten by his own game,” she giggled. When he shot her a confused look, Feyre declared in an amused tone, “You’re a fox! Wicked and cunning, seemingly cute and harmless, but actually feral. When people try to pet you, you bite.”

The way she said it, she sounded a little insane. Maybe she was. Only, Feyre couldn’t remember when exactly she had lost her sanity. Surely sometime between having sex with Lucien in the conference room and kissing Rhys goodbye the other night and finding the flowers.

“Is that how you see me?” Lucien face was a mixture of amusement and annoyance. His hand was still on her calf, now softly massaging it. Feyre’s gaze dropped down to his hand and he immediately stopped.

“Yes. Sly as a fox. Sneaking into my life and my heart, stealing it from right under my nose.” Feyre shook her head with a rueful little smile. “Shouldn’t have let the fox near the henhouse. It’s my own damn fault.”

Lucien went perfectly still. And then he pulled her closer by the leg he still was holding, lifting her off the table and into his lap, holding her close. Feyre didn’t fight him. She was tired of denying her own feelings. She might be angry and not ready to forgive him, but she was still in love with him and longed to be in his arms.

“I won’t hurt you ever again, Feyre,” Lucien promised in a shaky voice.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lucien,” she chided softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Don’t be mistaken! I’m still angry with you. And nothing has changed. You still have a boyfriend, one, I surprisingly happen to like very much. More actually, than is good for the three of us. You are going to hurt one of us eventually, if not both.”

Lucien eyed her sullenly. “What happened on your date?”

“Rhys didn’t tell?” Feyre asked surprised.

“No,” he sulked. “He said, I need to experience how it feels like, when your partner keeps such things to himself. He informed me, there would be a date, and yesterday, when he finally allowed me to come home, he asked me to explain to him in detail, how I felt about it. He said he forgave me after that, but he wouldn’t tell me, what you did on your date.”

Feyre smiled, impressed woth Rhys’ laconic punishment he had cooked up for his boyfriend. She decided to call him later and congratulate him.

“Once we decided not to talk about you, we had a lot of fun. We talked, we laughed, we had wine at your place. We kissed on the couch, he asked for another date,” Feyre listed truthfully.

She wouldn’t keep anything concerning Rhys or her from Lucien. Lying about it or denying to share would only complicate matters between the three of them further. Raw honesty may be brutal, but there was no way to spare the other hurt without causing more pain in the long run. Not in this scenario they were in.

Lucien’s hands tightened a fracture, gripping her harder. “Will you? Grant him another date?”

“Maybe? I don’t know yet,” Feyre admitted with a little sigh.

Feyre felt Lucien looking at her, so she shifted to look up and met his gaze. She could see conflicting emotions flickered over his face in rapid succession. He was trying to be okay with it, Feyre understood. He wasn’t, but he tried.

“Kiss and make up?” he asked eventually.

Feyre snorted. “You wish!”

Lucien nodded, looking slightly disappointed. But then he smiled at her - his usual, sharp-edged smile that normally had her bristling at sight. Only now, Feyre realized her heart hadn’t beaten harder because of a surge of anger, but because she was secretly loving his wicked smile.

Deciding to damn it all, Feyre sat up straighter and pressed her lips to his, trying to swallow his smile whole. Lucien jolted in surprise, but tightened his grip on her and kissed her back in that passionate, ferocious way of his.

Pulling away for a moment, she glared at him. “Only this once!” she declared. “And it doesn’t mean we made up!”

Lucien shot her his wicked smile again, his good russet eye bright with joy and a hint of his usual mischievousness. “Sure, only this once!”

Feyre nodded contently, being full aware she was a terrible liar, even when lying to herself, and then allowed Lucien to pull her down for another fierce kiss.

* * *

“So you forgave him?” Rhys inquired, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“No, not really.” Feyre sighed and flopped back onto her couch. “I just really wanted to kiss him. Just like I really wanted to kiss you.”

Rhys chuckle sounded slightly tinny through her crappy phone’s speaker, but it was still enough to make her cheeks heat. The guy was really too damn attractive for his own good.

“I’m flattered, darling,” he purred. Even when on the phone, he managed to make her squirm.

Feyre had called Rhys the moment she had gotten home to give him a full report on her day with Lucien. She knew she didn’t have to, but somehow, she felt like she should. Full transparency on all fronts was the only way she saw how they could walk through this minefield that was their _dodgy little mess_ how Rhys had begun to refer to it fondly, picking up the term she'd come up with. She had told Lucien, what she’d done with Rhys, but she would also tell Rhys, what she’d done with Lucien. It was only fair.

For now, Lucien and Feyre had decided to give themselves a break. They would try to be as professional as possible while at work. No kissing, no seduction attempts, none of the little games they usually played. They’d try to do their work and then go home, until they had both figured out what they wanted or expected from the other. In Lucien’s case, this also involved figuring out, where he and Rhys stood at the moment.

Oddly, Feyre was trying to do the same - finding out where she stood with Rhys.

“Listen Rhys, about that second date…”

“Are you going to decline? Wow, that must be the new record for getting dumped, I’m sure of it! Wait, let me check.” Feyre heard the telltale clatter of a computer keyboard in the background and laughed. She loved Rhys’ humor. He was surprisingly dorky.

“Can I actually dump you? Are we even dating?” she asked giggling.

“We went on a date. Ergo, we are dating!” Rhys concluded. “Or were, if you’re dumping me. Are you dumping me, darling?”

“I’m not dumping you,” she reassured him, still laughing. “Although I’m still not convinced we’re dating. No, I actually wanted to ask you, whether you want to come over this weekend. I mean, I like going out with you, but I’d rather stay in and talk.”

Feyre held her breath, anxious for his answer.

“I’d love to stay in and talk,” he answered in a soft purr. “Just me and you?”

“Yes,” she breathed back. “Just us. And a bottle of wine, maybe?”

“Are you planning to get me drunk, Feyre darling?”

“Do I need to get you drunk?” she purred in her best imitation of him.

“Depends on what your planning to do with me,” he answered, using the exact same words she had used on him. Feyre could hear the smile in his voice.

“I can imagine a great many things I could do to you, Rhysand darling. All entirely inappropriate for a second date. Or the boyfriend of another man,” she said in mock whisper.

They both started laughing, glossing over the sexual tension that inevitably seemed to build between them. But actually, Feyre _could_ think about quite a few things she’d like to do with him. Things that _were_ entirely inappropriate. Things that involved more of his addictive kisses.

_Greedy_ , she scolded herself. She had just kissed Lucien earlier today. Now she wanted Rhys’ kisses too?

“You can do whatever you want with me, Feyre darling, with or without wine,” Rhys said fondly after they’d calmed down.

Feyre hummed into the phone, blushing. “I’ll call you later this week with the details?”

“Great. Thanks for the call!” Feyre could tell he was hesitating, so she waited. “And, you know, for telling me.”

He might have forgiven Lucien, but he was still hurting. How could he not? Lucien very obviously having feelings for her must be really shitty for him. And now the Rhys and her kind of had a thing going on between them, too.

“I’ll always tell you. I decided to never keep anything from you. From neither of you.”  

“Thank you.” he spoke softly, voice brimming with an emotion she couldn’t place. “Good night, Feyre darling.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.”

Feyre ended the call and threw her arms over her eyes, shutting out the world.

Feyre 4 - Lucien 4 - Rhys 4

Today, they’d all won. Tomorrow, they could all lose. _Dodgy little mess it is,_ she thought grimly.


	10. Chapter 10

“Did you see Tamlin's face?” Feyre shared a secretive smile with Lucien.

Lucien scoffed and reached out to gently pull Feyre aside, making space for another colleague who passed them in the narrow hallway.

“Watch where you're going, love,” he scolded gently and so softly, that only Feyre could hear.

She blushed furiously over the nickname and their sudden proximity, but tried to school her face into a neutral expression.

Their colleague shot them a grateful smile, oblivious to the little love scene she was witnessing, and walked pass. Lucien released her immediately and they continued their walk from the conference room to their office. They had just held their final presentation for the project they had been working on. Feyre nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and tried to calm down.

“Of course I saw his face. If his brow had furrowed any deeper, we could've used it as pencil holder,” Lucien grinned.

Feyre laughed while they passed by the main floor’s many cubicles. People’s heads popped up and peeked over their cubicle walls like meerkats, nervous and confused to see the two of them laughing together.

It was Friday, and their agreement to keep things professional had worked well so far - better even than Feyre had anticipated. Now that they didn't focus on constantly trying to beat each other, they actually managed to get some work done. Feyre even cursed herself for not trying to work together with Lucien before. They made a surprisingly good team, probably the reason why they had been put together on the same project in the first place.

Only when things like this happened - them standing suddenly a bit too close, him calling her pet names - did working together become a teensy tiny bit hard. But Lucien kept good on his promise. Except for these tiny little lapses, he had kept his hands to himself for the whole week.

“Why do you think he's so pissed though?” Feyre asked, dunking into the kitchen to grab some more coffee. “He should be delighted we finally got our shit together and actually work for once instead of exchanging polite insults and glares.”

She opened the overhead cabinet searching for her favorite mug. She found it on the top shelf, where she couldn't reach.

“Son of a - “

“Tamlin or the person, who placed your mug up there?” Lucien asked, following her narrowed gaze to the mug in the cabinet.

“The person who placed it there.” Feyre balanced on her tiptoes, trying to reach the shelf, but she was too small. She let out a frustrated breath, eyes still on her mug. “You know what's funny though?” She turned to Lucien with a soft smile. “Before, I would have immediately suspected you behind this. Now I don't.”

Lucien raised one eyebrow and then flashed her the edged smile she loved so much. “Oh, but I did it! I put your mug up there.”

Feyre scowled at him. “Lucien, what the fuck? Why would you do this?” She'd thought they were past such petty games.

“So I could do this.”

He came closer, pinning her body between his and the counter, and then stretched up and over her to reach for the cup. His body brushed against hers and Feyre found herself effectively caged by his lean, hard torso and arms. It was hot. And way too exciting for the office’s tea kitchen on a Friday afternoon. Or any workday. Or ever.

“Lucien!” Feyre reprimanded with a shocked gasp.

He chuckled and plucked the cup from the shelf, holding it out for her. “It's Friday afternoon, so we're practically off work. No need to keep it that professional, right?”

A slow blush crept up all the way from neck and Feyre grew slightly flustered.

“We're still in the office,” she whispered, but instead of taking her mug, she brought up her hands to place them on his hips.

She hadn't touched him like this since that time in the conference room and her mind was suddenly flooded with memories: how he had kissed her, how his fingers had felt between her legs. How he had bend her over the table. Feyre pressed her legs together, squirming a bit.

“Only for another hour or so,” he whispered and dipped his head, so their noses were brushing. “Want to go out with me afterwards?”

Feyre swallowed, “Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date. Rhys got one and now he's getting a second one. I want one too.”

Hearing him mention Rhys made Feyre remember him and she pushed Lucien lightly off her.

“Well, to be fair: the first date was to make amends for the conference room, so it doesn't count.” She paraphrased, because she didn't want anyone to overhear them talking about sex. Or being caught standing too close, obviously flirting. “And the second hasn't happened yet, so before you can demand a date for yourself to get even with Rhys, I need to actually go on a _date_ date with him first.”

Lucien glowered, clearly disappointed, but he nodded. “Fine. But that means, I get to take you out on a date after Rhys, right? And on the weekends, I can do this.”

He abruptly pulled her closer and claimed her lips in a biting kiss. Feyre protested, smacking his chest.

“Lucien, not here!” she hissed low, eyeing the door in panic. “What if people see?

He grinned down at her. “In our office would be okay then, love? Good to know!”

“You're insufferable!” Feyre snarled, cheeks bright pink, and turned to the coffee maker to fill the mug she finally ripped out of Lucien's hands. Lucien barked a laugh, clearly amused to have agitated her.

Just then, Tamlin stuck his head into the kitchen.

“Everything alright here?” he asked, eyes flitting between a still gleefully laughing Lucien and a scowling and red-faced Feyre. For some reason, their boss was gloating.

“Lucien's being an ass, so everything's just as usual,” Feyre clipped, pouring out her coffee.

They were lucky, Tamlin hadn't caught them kissing. Feyre wasn't sure, if HR rules forbid hookups or dating between colleagues, but their boss would certainly not appreciate colleagues making out in the tea kitchen. Even when he himself was rumored to be the father of his assistant Ianthe’s baby.

“Oh, don't look so happy Tamlin, were not fighting. We're still on our new good behavior,” Lucien scoffed.

Tamlin's brow furrowed, like it had during the meeting. Remembering Lucien's pencil holder comment, Feyre pressed her lips together to reign in her smile.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me and Lucien have put aside our differences. We're really good _friends_ now.”

Contrary to what she expected, that comment had Tamlin's brow crease further.

“Friends, huh,” he asked, looking between them.

Lucien, little shit that he was, suddenly produced a pen out of nowhere, tapping it against the counter. Feyre saw it and burst out laughing. He rewarded her with a wide grin. Tamlin kept glancing between them, visibly confused because he was not in on the joke. But when neither Feyre nor Lucien would elaborate, he left the kitchen, but not without more dirty looks in their direction.

“You're such an ass, Luce!” Feyre wheezed, clutching her mug desperately.

“Sorry, but his creases were so deep, I really wanted to test my theory of whether they would hold my pen. I just didn't know how to approach him about it,” he declared in mock seriousness.

Still giggling, Feyre stretched and pecked a kiss to his jaw. “Dork,” she said fondly.

Lucien flushed a bit and and looked all cutely smug as he ushered her out of the kitchen.

“Although, what I don't get is why he keeps frowning like that,” Feyre declared while they walked back to their office.

Lucien gave her a sideways glance. “Isn’t that obvious? He doesn't like that we're not hating on each other anymore.”

“Yeah, but why? It makes his job easier if we're not treating each other like shit.”

Lucien sighed. “Love, has anyone ever told you, that you're a bit thick?”

Feyre scowled at him. “Funny you should ask. Cassian actually told me I was, when you freaked out because you thought I had a date with him.”

Lucien nodded and gave her a suggestive look.  

Feyre stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. “By the Cauldron, don't tell me, Tamlin is interested in me!”

Lucien started slow clapping. “Took you long enough, Fey. Yeah, he liked it better, when we were fighting. Now he's afraid, we're growing too close,” he added with a sly smirk that looked an awful lot like Rhysand’s.

Feyre snorted. “Yet another reason to ask the higher ups for a relocation. Now that we don't fight anymore, I need to present some other plausible reason.”

They had finally reached their office, but Lucien held Feyre back from entering. “What do you mean with 'ask the higher ups for a relocation’? Why would you do that?”

Feyre shot him an incredulous look and sidestepped him to unlock their door. “Lucien, we can't be working together anymore. No matter how this… thing between us ends. It's too complicated!”

“But it worked fine this past week!” he protested.

Feyre shook her head and pushed the door open. “Lucien that was one week where we managed to get our shit together. It won't work fore - _oh_!”

Feyre stopped walking, staring in wonder at their desks. Someone had delivered them flowers, a giant bouquet of roses standing on each of their desks: red for Lucien, lavender and orangey-pink for Feyre.

“What is it?” Lucien asked behind her, gently shoving her aside. “Ah.” Lucien’s face grew soft. “That sneaky bastard!”

He went over to his desk, plucking the card from his bouquet of red roses and read silently, a soft, happy smile she'd never seen spreading on his lips. Rhys must've sent them. It made Feyre feel slightly jealous that he was able to make Lucien smile like this, without even being present. And then she remembered, she had gotten her own bouquet.

Curious, she went over to her desk, admiring the stunning bouquet of lavender and orange roses. An odd combination, but lovely. Plucking off the card, she tried to decipher the elegant cursive hand.

_Something highly inappropriate for a second date._ _Curious to see what things you have in mind._

Feyre didn’t understand, what Rhys was getting at, flowers for a date _were_ actually appropriate, but the second line made her smile. She looked at the roses, admiring the colors and then stuck her nose in them. They didn’t smell as strong as she had imagined they would, but they were still really pretty to look at.

Feeling Lucien’s gaze on her, she looked up. He was looking at her bouquet, still smiling, but the smile was slightly forced and conflicted.

Feyre gave a sigh and walked over to him. “What is it? You can’t be jealous about me getting roses from Rhys, can you?” She pointed to his own flowers. “You got some too.”

“Yeah,” he hedged, pulling her closer. Lucien tried to kiss her again, but Feyre put her hand on his lips, stopping him.

“What is it?” she asked.

Lucien glanced at her bouquet again and then at her. “It’s the colors.”

Feyre frowned. “What’s with them? I like them, they’re pretty.”

“It’s their meaning,” he clarified. “I’m bothered by what Rhys is implying with them.”

Feyre pushed out of his arms, crossing her own in front of her chest. “What’s with you two idiots and your flower messages. Do you secretly run a flower shop or something? Can’t you just send me a text for once? Why do all your declarations have to come in a language that I can’t understand? It’s like writing a letter to an illiterate person!”

Lucien didn’t laugh about her jokes, but remained silent. He was beginning to brood, which meant, he was getting really upset. But so was Feyre.

“Lucien, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask my sister, who happens to be a florist and translated _your_ little flower message to me, by the way. The fucking _I want you, but I’m so jealous_ message you left on my doorstep, in case you forgot. Or I’ll google. I could also just call Rhys and ask him. You either tell me, or you don’t. But make up your mind.”

“The meaning of those ones,” he pointed at the orangey ones. “Well, it depends on whether you’d say they’re peach, orange or salmon. Peach means _modesty_ , it could also be a _thank you_. But they’re darker, so either orange or salmon.” He frowned. “ _Enthusiasm, desire, excitement._ It’s what you give someone to tell them you desire them, you’re sharing your excitement over your relationship with them. Passionate romance.”

While his face grew darker with every word, Feyre’s heart beat faster with every syllable. Was Rhys confessing to her? Her mouth was dry when she asked, “And the lavender ones?”

“ _Enchantment_ ,” Lucien bit out. “Eagerness to grow your relationship.” He shut his eyes. “Love at first sight.”

_Love at first sight._

He _was_ confessing to her!

_Something highly inappropriate for a second date._

Confessing on the second date, hell, _before_ the second date was indeed highly inappropriate. Especially considering Rhys had a boyfriend. Who stood in front of her. Looking crestfallen. Feyre was in shock.

Trying to come up with anything to say, she pointed a trembling finger at Lucien’s bouquet. “And yours.”

Lucien looked at the flowers, but his gaze was directed inwards, at something only he could see. “Love. _I love you_.”

“Lucien, look - “

“No!” he burst out, raking his hand through his hair. “Gosh, I don’t even know whom I should be jealous of anymore. First, Rhys takes you out on a date and I’m so jealous of him. Now he more or less tells you he has feelings for you, and I’m trying not to, but I’m jealous of you Feyre.”

“You are so greedy,” Feyre scolded softly. “You have Rhys, but you want me. Why don’t I get to want you both, too? Why do I have to choose one, while you get both? Why can’t Rhys have both. It’s not fair!”

Lucien worked his jaw, brooding silently. Feyre reached up and softly traced his scar with her fingers. She remembered what Rhys had said about him having scars that were on the inside. Lucien closed his eyes at her touch, trembling slightly.

“What am I to you?” she asked. “What is this between you, me and Rhys, Lucien?”

His face darkened even more. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Do you love Rhys?” Feyre implored.

“Yes.”

“But you also like me.”

He breathed out with a heavy sigh, dropping his head and leaning forward, pressing his forehead to her shoulder and gripping her hips. “Yes.”

Feyre ran her fingers through his soft, silky hair. “I like you, Luce.” Lucien’s grip on her hips tightened a tiny fraction. “But I’m also feeling attracted to Rhys. This is so messed up.”

Lucien huffed a humorless laugh. “It would be easier, if I weren’t in love with you.”

Feyre’s heart gave a pang.

“Lucien…”

Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. So Feyre just held him.

Feyre 5? - Lucien 5? - Rhys 5?

Keeping score was rapidly becoming difficult. Such a _dodgy little mess!_


	11. Chapter 11

“I did it again!”

Rhys blinked at her in surprise, the fond smile he had directed at her when she opened the door still on his lips, but he looked visibly confused.

“Uhm, hello there too, darling?” he said with a slight frown and stepped into her apartment, cradling a bottle of what she suspected was really nice wine.

It was Saturday night, the night of their second date, and as they had agreed, they were staying in at Feyre’s, eating dinner and planning to talk about their ‘ _dodgy little mess_ ’.

“Didn't you hear me? I did it again!” Feyre exclaimed, upset with herself, throwing her front door shut with a little too much force and wincing, when it snapped shut with a loud bang.

“Wow, calm down there, Britney Spears,” Rhys jested, pushing the bottle of wine into her hands. “Here, for you.”

And then he cupped her face and kissed her full on the lips in greeting. Feyre stiffened noticeable, her spine locking. Befuddled, Rhys pulled back.

“No?” he asked.

“No. I mean yes, but…,” Feyre averted her eyes. She was ashamed.

Rhys angled his head and peered into her face, not releasing hers from his cupped hands. “Is this about you sleeping with Lucien again?”

Feyre exhaled and relaxed a fraction. “He told you then.”

“Yes, right after he came home, yesterday.” Rhys watched her carefully and then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I'm not mad. At either of you.”

Feyre stared up at him in disbelief. “How could you not? Aren't you jealous?” she asked incredulously.

Rhys shrugged and finally released her face, holding her shoulders instead. “Envious maybe, but not jealous. I mean, are you jealous of me sleeping with Lucien? Cause we do, you know. Sleep with each other.”

“Oh!” Feyre blinked a few times and blushed. “I actually never thought about that. I mean…,” Feyre glanced up at Rhys, who looked entirely too amused. She scowled at him. “I've never seen two men doing it, so it's not like I have a habit of picturing you guys doing it. It's not something I happen to think about.”

Rhys chuckled softly and released her. “Should we watch some gay porn together then? To give you an idea how it might look like,” he offered with a smirk, shoving his hands in this pocket.

Feyre gave him a withering glare and pointed towards her apartment door. “Oh look, they left a hole in the wall when building this place. Don't let the door hit you on your way out.”

Rhys threw his head back and barked a laugh. He didn't look like he was faking it and Feyre took a deep breath of relief.

After the roses incident yesterday, it had taken the two of them a long while to calm down. Only they hadn’t calmed down, not really. Feyre had been happy but confused over the two confessions she had gotten by the two of them, and Lucien had been high on strong emotions, battling the jealousy he felt towards Feyre while also desiring her at the same time. Eventually they had kissed again and then one thing had led to another.

‘Desk chair’ was now a place Feyre could check off on her little Office Sex Bingo. It was right next to ‘Conference Room’.

It had been fantastic and in some sense purging, but it had also left Feyre feeling immensely bad afterwards.

“Why does it feel like I cheated on you?” she asked Rhys now.

Rhys laughter stopped like she had flipped a switch and he looked at her in wonder. “Come again?”

Feyre blushed and turned, walking into her kitchen to check on their dinner in the oven. She had made some simple pasta casserole dish that even she couldn't manage to fuck up. The trick was to dump on just enough cheese to mask every other taste.

“I don't know,” she mumbled, scouring her cabinets for wine glasses. She carefully turned her back to Rhys so he couldn't see her face. “I just… afterwards, I just felt bad, thinking about you. Like I betrayed your trust or something.”

Feyre set the wine glasses on the counter, but didn't turn around. She felt Rhys come up behind her, running his hands over her shoulder and then arms, gently turning her around.

“Look at me,” he pleaded softly.

Reluctantly, Feyre raised her head. Rhys searched her face, looking deep into her eyes. Then he just kissed her, one of those kisses that made her burn and ache all over.

“I’m okay with you sleeping with Lucien. I can't blame the two of you for doing things I want to do myself.”

“Sleeping with Lucien?” she asked, although she knew that wasn't all that he had implied. But Feyre wanted to hear him say it.

“Amongst other things, yes,” he purred, brushing his lips along her jaw. “Sleeping with him, sleeping with you, maybe sleeping with bo - “

Feyre didn't get to hear the rest of what else Rhys wanted to do, because her timer started beeping. With much regret, Feyre slipped out of Rhys hold and made to take the casserole out of the oven.

“Well, if that's the case, you should have sent me some “fuck me” flowers,” Feyre said, placing the dish on her cooking plate.

Rhys chuckled and then eyed the wine bottle. “Do you have a bottle opener somewhere?”

Feyre came over and pulled open a drawer, rummaging around for a spatula and the opener. She handed it to Rhys and then took two plates out of the cabinet.

“Thank you,” he said. “I did, by the way.”

Feyre shoot him a confused look.

“Send you “fuck me” flowers,” Rhys clarified. “The salmon ones? _Desire_.”

“Oh. Lucien interpreted them slightly different for me. And anyways, couldn't you just write that on a card?”

Feyre turned around to stab the pasta with the spatula, cheeks flaming. When did their conversation even turn from _I’m sorry I slept with your boyfriend again_ to _I want to sleep with you_?  All within the time span of 15 minutes into their _second_ date.

“What a truly romantic card that would be. _Dear Feyre, please fuck me. Also, I'm in love with you. I know this is highly inappropriate for a second date, but what do you think?_ I like to think, I have more style than this. _”_

_I’m in love with you._ Feyre gave a little jolt and the pasta she just had been balancing on the spatula slipped, performing a perfect 1,5 salto, before diving back into the dish with almost no splashing. Perfect 10.0 in execution.

Mortified down to her bone marrow, Feyre gave it another try and safely delivered the food this time. With trembling fingers and crimson cheeks, she handed the plate to Rhys.

“What are you, a closet romantic?” she quipped, trying to stir their talk towards safer topics.

“Yeah, I haven't come out yet,” he said smirking, taking the plate from her. But he placed it on the counter behind him and took her hands, pulling her to him.

“Feyre, I think I've fallen in love with you. You don’t need to answer me, but I want you to know this. No pressure,” he said softly.

Feyre bit her lip and nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Rhys smiled down at her and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Now, let’s eat and pour our hearts out over wine with way too heavy talk for a second date, shall we?” he suggested with a wink. “By the way, that pasta dive? Perfect 10.0 in execution!”

Feyre burst into giggles and threw herself into his arms. “Get out off my head, you prick!”

* * *

“No but really, what is it with you guys and the flowers?” Feyre asked drowsily.

She was comfortably tired after food, wine and good company, especially when said company was currently expertly rubbing her feet.

While being with Lucien was exciting and thrilling, being with Rhys was comforting and reassuring. She loved how unexpectedly open they were with each other, sharing their thoughts and feelings, even if it meant discussing Lucien. It was strange Feyre already felt this deep of a connection with Rhys when they barely even knew each other, but it was also refreshing. Talking to him always left her feeling better.

“We just really like flowers, is it that weird?” Rhys said defensively. “Also, it’s kind of fun to try figure out what the other is trying to tell you. It’s a game of sorts. You like these kind of games, don’t you?”

“Sure. But games I can play!” Feyre retorted and then moaned, because Rhys had just pressed a sore spot with his thumb. “Right there!” she begged, closing her eyes.

Rhys froze for a second, but then resumed massaging.

“I can’t read flower language,” she reminded him, picking up their thread of conversation.

Rhys hummed and switched feet. “I could teach you, you know?”

“To read flowers?”

“Yeah. And then you can send out vicious little messages with them. Like, _I hope you choke_ to Tamlin. Or _congrats on knocking up your employee_! Or _back the fuck up you creep!”_

Feyre laughed. “That’s actually a fantastic idea!” She eyed Rhys curiously. “Lucien told you about Tamlin having an alleged interest in me, I take it.”

Rhys snorted in disgust. “That tool better keep his hands off of our girl. Lucien is the only one I’m willing to share you with.”

The blood suddenly rushing to her head made Feyre feel incredibly dizzy.

_Our girl_.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, that didn’t sound weird at all. It sounded right.

He looked at her then with frightening intensity and the mood between them shifted entirely. They didn’t need words, he could read everything in her face and eyes.

Rhys let his hand slide slowly towards her ankle and tugged gently, pulling Feyre down flat on the couch. With feline grace, he settled over her, staring down into her eyes as if he was about to devour her.

“You’re mine. And Lucien’s. Or am I wrong?” he claimed, his deep voice resonating within her, stirring her hunger awake.  

“With the two of you keeping me occupied, I don't think, I could handle anyone else, even if I wanted too.” It was supposed to sound like a joke, but it came out breathy.

Rhys gave her a satisfied smirk and then lowered himself onto her, so his body was pressed flush against hers, pressing the air out of her lungs. But before the air could escape completely, they locked lips, sealing it shut.

Feyre snaked her hands around his body to his back, shamelessly fondling him. Rhys was built differently from Lucien, muscled and broad around the shoulders, but with narrow hips. A swimmer's built. It didn't take her roaming fingers long to slip underneath the shirt he was wearing in hot pursuit of finding naked skin.

Rhys responded in like, his hand skimming over the skin of her waist and rib cage, his kisses growing even more intense; something Feyre hadn't believed was possible.

Rhys kissed like he was pouring his soul into her, very slow and very controlled, every movement of his lips and tongue full of feeling - overwhelming and all-consuming. The moment he kissed her, Feyre stopped thinking and all she could do was tremble and shiver, succumbing to his overpowering presence. He was like an incubus, creeping into her head and heart, fanning her lust and desire, only to suck away her another part of her soul with each and every kiss. Feyre was beyond aroused.

“Rhys,” she moaned softly between kisses, clutching his ass and pulling him even closer. He was killing her, she was dying, but _oh_ what a sweet, sweet death it was.

Rhys pulled away, making Feyre protest incoherently. He fixed his gaze at her, violet eyes dark with desire - a predator watching his prey, about to lunge.

“Feyre,” he purred, his lips brushing over her cheek. He stopped just before her ear, pressing a little kiss there. “Can I touch you?”

_Oh Cauldron_. Her nipples pinched, already screaming to be touched.

“Yes!” she breathed.

Rhys smiled against her jaw and wrapped his hand around her waist, squeezing her. “You’re so soft, darling,” he sighed against her neck. “Feels so nice. Are you this soft everywhere?”

“Go ahead and find out,” Feyre suggested. She hoped, it didn’t sound like she was begging.

Rhys hummed happily and sucked at her neck, letting his hands roam. He was taking his time, teasing her, avoiding all the places where Feyre was in dire need of being touched. Instead he focused on her thighs, her stomach and her sides, squeezing and caressing.

Feyre squirmed impatiently, trying to stretch and shift, so his hands would brush up against her breasts or higher on her thighs, but he saw right through her.

“Stop moving, darling,” he growled hoarsely, “you’re ruining my fun.”

“Tease!” Feyre whimpered.

He and Lucien were so different in their approach, she couldn’t even try and imagine how the two of them worked together. Lucien was all wild and rough, passionate and kinky. And Rhys - she was drowning by sensory overload under his slow, sensuous touches, already unraveling from little more than deep kisses and his sweet caress.

Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head when Rhys softly kissed the top of her breasts, working his way down where the bastard _knew_ she wanted his mouth. But then his delicious weight on her suddenly vanished and Feyre groaned in frustration, blinking her eyes open. Rhys had gotten up from the couch and stood watching her, leisurely sipping his wine.

Feyre gave him a scowl. “What are you doing? Get back here!” _On top of me. Inside of me._

“No, not here,” Rhys declared, draining the last of his wine and putting his glass back on the table. He held out a hand for Feyre and helped her stand. And then he scooped her up into his arms in a swift move, holding her princess style.

Nipping her jaw, he whispered, “I’m not having you on a couch the first time, Feyre. I want to take my time to properly worship you. Preferably on a bed.”

Feyre’s all but melted right there in his arms. “Let be show you the bedroom?” she proposed in a shaky voice.  

The kiss he gave her was a powerful promise, reminding her of what was about to come.

No way she would be able to keep score tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***NSFW***

“Rhys please, I can’t! No more!” Feyre sobbed, half delirious. He was killing her! She was dying!

“Not yet, darling,” he huffed and then put his mouth back to where it had been torturing her for the last half hour or so - right on her clit.

Feyre cried out again, a blackout looming at the edge of her consciousness, threatening to take her under. She no longer had control over her body, her breathing, her sense of touch. Everything felt too much, too vibrant, too overbearing. Feyre was in sensory overload from the obscenely long foreplay Rhys was putting her through, threatening to have her faint before he even got the chance to bury himself inside of her.

“I need you to come just one more time for me, darling,” he purred, pumping his fingers deeper inside of her for emphasis and then nudging her clit with the tip of his tongue.

 _Twice_. He’d already made her come twice. Feyre whimpered and fisted his hair, her hand buried in his thick, black strands. His goal wasn’t to make her come, it seemed. It was to make her come as often as possible before passing out.

“Rhys, I - “ she whined and then choked on air, her release barrelling through her spine and crashing over her like a wave.

Feyre let herself be swept up in it, riding with the current. She was floating on the edge of consciousness when Rhys finally released her. She didn’t notice him softly retracting his fingers, or peppering soft kisses all over her thighs, sex and pubic mound, only that he eventually pulled her into his arms and stroked her head, burying his nose in her hair. Rhys held her, while she slowly came down from her high and her heartbeat slowed to a normal rate. Feyre just lay there like a jellyfish on land, limbs too heavy to move, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“You alright darling?” Rhys asked, slightly worried about her boneless state.

“No. I just died, I’m dead, deceased. This is my ghost speaking,” she brabbled into his chest.  

Rhys chuckled and his chest rumbled in time with his laughter. He hoisted her on top of him and up, so their faced were level. Feyre’s head lolled lifelessly on the pillow next to him, but her body was covering his, straddling his hips and stomach.

“I take you liked it?” he said, kissing her nose.

Feyre closed her eyes. “I did. At least until I died after orgasm number one. I don’t remember much afterward,” she admitted, completely exhausted. “I remember seeing a light at the end of the tunnel…”

Rhys laughed again and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips and opened her mouth for him, so he could deepen the kiss. Yes, she was beat, but she would never get enough of those kisses.

“You’re cute,” he purred fondly when they pulled away, running his hand down her bare back and rear, inching dangerously close to her center again. “You’re good to continue?”

“I wish, but I honestly don’t think I can move right now,” Feyre admitted. She was too damn exhausted.

“But it’s ok if you won’t have to?” he murmured against her lips.

Feyre gave him a tired nod. “Yes.”

Rhys suddenly grabbed her ass and lifted her hips up slightly. And then he pushed into her from underneath. Feyre gave a startled gasp.

“Rhys!” she panted, stunned by the abrupt invasion. She relished the sudden fullness of his length stretching her walls, but she had still half a mind to remember protection. “Condom!” she choked out.

Holding her by the nape of her neck and banding one hand around her back to hold her tight, Rhys gently rocked into her. “Don’t worry darling. I’m wearing one,” he assured her.

Just to make sure, Feyre reached down between them and testingly ran a hand over the base of his cock, lifting herself off him slightly. When her fingers felt the rubberly rim of a condom, she relaxed. She hadn’t even registered him putting it on. Feyre snuggled her head into the crook of his shoulder, giving herself over to him and the sensation of having him inside of her.

Rhys kissed her temple and thrusted again, harder this time, eliciting a breathy whimper from Feyre. And then he started for real, thrusting upwards and into her in a steady, deep rhythm that had her pant and moan into his shoulder. Sweat was building on their bodies, collecting where the two of them were pressed together.

Rhys kept his mouth pressed against her temple, breathing hard against her and moaning every now and then. The little sounds he made were precious. Feyre kissed his neck and then sucked at it, making him moan louder. Delighted about having gotten a moan, Feyre bit him - Rhys cried out and responded with a sudden hard thrust that had her clamp down on him in surprise.

 _He likes to be bitten,_ Feyre realized with glee and started attacking his neck with the ferocity of a baby kitten, too tired for more. Rhys seemed to like it well enough, because he was increasing his pace, pounding harder and harder into her.

“Feyre,” he groaned her name, pushing his palm against the small of her back, pinning her hips in place. And then let out a strangled sound and pushed deep inside her, going still and tensing his muscles as he came in 3 or 4 rapid waves, each accompanied by a pulsing twitch of his cock.

Relaxing again, he gently lifted her off him and led Feyre slide to the mattress next to him, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry darling, I got a bit too excited there,” he apologized, plucking a strand of hair from her damp forehead.

“What’chu apologizing for?” Feyre asked, laying on her front with her face squashed against the pillow, exhaustion once more pummeling into her.

“You didn’t come, right?” Rhys asked, looking genuinely troubled. His hand slid down her back, slipping between her buttcheeks and into her folds. “Should I - “

“O dear sweet Mother no!” Feyre protested, rolling away from him and his deft fingers. “Do you want to kill me? Any more and I’ll die!”

Rhys smiled happily and reached for her, pulling her closer again. “Come here, darling,” he growled playfully and then kissed her. Feyre sighed into the kiss and molded her body to his, sore, but happy.

“Can I borrow your bathroom for a bit?”

“Sure,” Feyre yawned. She was growing sleepy rapidly.

With a quick kiss to her head, Rhys snuck out of bed. Feyre admired the view of his back that she got and snuggled under her covers, resting her eyes for a bit. She jolted awake, when she felt the bed dip under another weight. Feyre hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep.

“You’re tired, I should go,” Rhys announced, caressing her head. He sat perched on the edge of her mattress, still naked. He must’ve just come back from the bathroom, finding her asleep in her bed.

“Can you...” Feyre bit her lip. She didn’t want to sound whiney or needy, but cuddling with him had been nice. She desperately wanted back in his arms, to be held and kissed after sex, imagining this was more than just sex. Just once. But she was afraid, he’d decline. After all, he was not her boyfriend. He was Lucien’s.

Rhys raised one eyebrow in question when he didn’t speak, urging her to voice her question.

“Can you stay?” she asked quietly, already preparing herself for the rejection she was sure she’d face.

Rhys regarded her in silence for a moment, and then bend down, kissing her sweetly. “Sure darling.”

Feyre lifted the covers for him and Rhys slid inside, cradling her into his arms. They shifted around quite a bit to find a position that was comfortable and Feyre pressed her nose right into his neck. He smelled faintly of citrus, sweat, sex and man. It was oddly comforting.

“Was it good for you?” Feyre asked drowsily, already halfway to sleep again.

Rhys chuckled softly. “Shouldn't it be _How was I_?”

“I didn’t do enough to be allowed ask that question,” she said, stifling another yawn. “And I’m missing the cigarette. No _How was I_ without the obligatory cigarette.”

“Hmmmm,” Rhys hummed, affectionately kissing the top of her head. He was doing that a lot, she noticed; giving out that little kisses. She liked it. It made her feel appreciated, loved. “It was more than good.”  

“I’m glad,” she sighed and closed her eyes. It was a matter of seconds before Feyre had fallen asleep in Rhys’ soothing embrace.

* * *

 

“Now that you have slept with me too, does that make you and Lucien even?”

Feyre hated herself for asking. She didn't even know why she asked it. But what she did know was that she had woken up in Rhys’ arms and her chest had felt all fuzzy and tight and her stomach had done several celebratory somersaults. She had nuzzled his chest, slowly waking Rhys with kisses and nose rubs, which had turned out to be a rather difficult task to achieve, because he refused to wake up. She hadn't pegged him for a heavy sleeper. And then her gaze had fallen onto his neck, where her pathetic, exhausted biting attempts had actually left his golden skin slightly red.

With a smile, she had remembered the way Rhys had moaned when she'd bit him. And then another memory had crept in: _Lucien_ biting _her,_ his little fang digging into her skin.

Then and there, Feyre made the first conscious connection between the two men and the fact, that they were in a relationship. Sure, she knew they had been in a relationship for quite some time now and she had also seen the two together, but they hadn't acted like a couple. Not much anyways. And afterwards, she'd never seen them together at the same time. They talked about each other and she _knew_ they were a couple, she reminded herself often enough of that, but knowing was different from understanding.

But now that she had made the connection, she couldn't unmake it. Rhys liked being bitten during sex. Lucien liked biting during sex. She'd experienced both with them. They'd been experiencing it with each other. Long before she was even in the picture.

Strangely, it was not jealousy that had welled up inside of her, but guilt and remorse. Same with as after she'd slept with Lucien, she was feeling bad, ashamed to having slept with Rhys and feeling like she had cheated on Lucien.

Rhys had eventually woken up and seen her face, sighing when he had taken in her expression. Because as much as Lucien was always misinterpreting her signals and reactions, Rhys was able to read her like an open book. He had been from the moment they met. And so the talk about their _dodgy little mess,_ the one they never managed to have yesterday, began.

“Don’t talk like that, darling. That’s not why I did it,” he growled, actually angry at her for once.

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because I wanted to. Because I want you,” he simply said.

Feyre studied his face, looking for sign of deceit or pretense, but he met her gaze openly, albeit slightly offended. He had meant it. No twisted, deep reaching agenda or elaborate revenge plan to get back at her for sleeping with Lucien. He wanted her. And she wanted him. And Lucien.

Annoyed, she threw herself back onto the bed, carefully clutching the covers to her chest. They were still both naked, because they had never gotten dressed. The both of them probably smelled like sex too - sex, sweat and betrayal.

“This would be easier if I hated you,” Feyre sighed.

Quirking an eyebrow at her, Rhys scooted closer. “Do you want to hate me?”

Feyre turned her head slightly to look at him. “It's easier than liking you. That’s for sure.”

Rhys smiled over the backhanded admission of her feelings for him and pulled Feyre into his arms, kissing her sweetly. “I’m in love with you Feyre. Am I not allowed to?”

Feyre's heart gave a pang and she wanted nothing more that answer him with a _yes_ but she couldn't.

“But what about Lucien?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering dangerously.

“The way I feel about you doesn’t change the way I feel about him. Isn’t it the same for you?”

Feyre snuggled closer, crawling half on top of Rhys and hiding her face against his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and desperately trying to bite back tears.

“No. It’s the same for me, too,” she admitted in a shaky voice.

Rhys hugged her closer, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe we should sit down and have a talk, all three of us?” he suggested. “Because, let’s be honest, this situation will become more complicated the longer we keep it going like this.”

Rhys nudged her, until Feyre raised her head and deigned to look at him.

“I don’t want this to end,” Rhys said honestly. “I want to keep seeing you. But I also don’t want to break up with Lucien. I want you both. And I think, he feels the same, but I can’t speak for him. What about you, darling?”

“I like you. A lot. And I want to keep seeing you too. But I also have feelings for Lucien.”

Rhys nodded. “We can’t solve this between you and me, or me and Lucien and you and Lucien.”

“So what do you propose? A who-gets-to-sleep-with-whom-and-who-gets-to-get-jealous-about-what meeting?” she suggested, scrunching up her nose in mild discontent.

Rhys let out an exasperated sigh. “Seldom had such romantic talk after sex. Yes, darling, I propose a who-gets-to-sleep-with-whom meeting. Be sure to bring paper, sharpies and colored post-its for color coding, so we can work out a fucking-schedule. I want the black stickers. Geez Feyre!”

Feyre wanted to lash out with a sharp response, but she got the almighty giggles picturing a ‘fucking-schedule’. Dropping her head to Rhys shoulder again, she snickered uncontrollably, muttering _fucking-schedule_ in between laughs.

“Good to know, I’m amusing you,” Rhys grumbled, but then he joined in her in her laughter. Rolling them over, he pinned her to the mattress.

“How about, we color in alternate days for Lucien and me and you get to a certain amount of sparkly star stickers per month to stick on the days you demand our services.” Feyre giggled louder and swatted at Rhys, who had attempted to bite her nose. “And if you've been a good girl, we'll give you a gold star and you can put it on a day where you want to have us both.”

Feyre squeaked in surprise. “You both? You mean… in bed?”

Rhys gave her a funny look. “I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to just a date or dinner, but yeah, eventually that's what I'd come down to. Have you never imagined the three of us in bed together?”

“No,” Feyre answered honestly, blushing a little. “Until earlier, I didn't even think about you and Lucien in bed together. “Did you?”

“Yeah. All the time, actually.” Rhys shot her such a suggestive, lewd look, it made her blush deeper.

“Oh!”

Nibbling her earlobe. “Does it turn you off?”

Feyre squirmed slightly, heat pooling low in her belly. The thought of both Lucien and Rhys touching her at the same time, doing the things they’d done to her, but together...

“I'm not opposed to it, I guess? I don't know. I need to think about it.”

And she needed to see Lucien and Rhys together, acting like a couple to see whether or not she could deal with that. Feyre had yet to see how she would react to them kissing or being couplely in front of her. Last time, she had felt jealous just by them calling each other pet names, but that had been before she’d gotten to know Rhys. And when she just had found out about his existence.

Rhys hummed again, grazing his nose over her neck. “Let's do this today? Before we get anymore hurt.”

“Okay,” Feyre sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer for a kiss. Because, depending on how their talk turned out, it might very well be the last she’d get.

A change in the game: Score abandoned, new rule. It’s either win or lose all!


	13. Chapter 13

~~~~Feyre was sweating profusely when she rang the doorbell to Lucien’s and Rhys’ apartment.

She and Rhys had agreed that he’d go home to talk to Lucien first, and then she’d swing by later for dinner. It had sounded like a good idea, given that Lucien was prone to being jealous and probably wasn’t too happy that Rhys had stayed over at her place, but right now, Feyre wasn’t sure that she would manage to eat. She was too nervous, her stomach in knots. Feyre was about to ring again, when the door suddenly was ripped open. But it wasn’t Rhys opening the door - it was Lucien.

“Oh, hey,” Feyre greeted him with a nervous smile. She hadn’t received any update on his mood, after Rhys had left her place to talk with him.

Lucien didn’t greet her back, but instead glowered at Feyre. Her smile faded the longer he kept staring mutely at her.

“Lucien -”

The talk must’ve gone bad, because Lucien was very obviously either pissed at Feyre or Rhys or both of them for spending the night together. Feyre kept waiting for him to say something or invite her inside, but Lucien did nothing but stare at her, brooding.

“Should I go?” she asked after a minute or so.

“No!”

And then Lucien pulled her closer by the waist and kissed her. Feyre sighed in relief and placed her hands on his chest, leaning into the kiss. But Lucien broke away before she could deepen the kiss, studying her again. He didn’t say anything, but Feyre could almost hear the gears clicking in his head. He was trying to sort out his conflicting, ambivalent feelings towards her. As she had and still was.

“Is that Feyre darling?” Rhys voice came up from behind them.

Feeling as if she had been doing something forbidden, Feyre wanted to take a step back and get away from Lucien when she heard Rhys’ voice, but Lucien held her firmly trapped in his arms. She frowned at him, but Lucien still had on his observant, albeit dark expression. And then she understood. He wanted to see how Rhys would react to them being close. Feyre relaxed and let him hold her. After all, she was curious too.

“Hey darling!”

Rhys had reached them and smiled down at Feyre. He didn’t seem to particularly mind that she was in Lucien’s arms, although he did throw a quick sideways glance at Lucien, probably to gauge his mood. And then he bend down between them and pecked a chaste kiss to Feyre’s lips and another one to Lucien’s temple. Lucien stiffened slightly, but still remained eerily passive.

“Why are you making poor Feyre darling stand outside, babe?” Rhys asked Lucien, one hand on the small of his back, the other on Feyre’s shoulder.

Feyre searched her own feelings, trying to determine how she was feeling about this greeting, but she didn’t detect a hint of jealousy within her. Only mild concern for Lucien and nervousness.

Lucien turned his gaze to Rhys, finally releasing Feyre. “I was saying hello.”

Rhys’ gaze softened and he placed his hand at Lucien’s cheek for a moment. “Did I disturb you? You need a moment alone?”

Lucien glanced at Feyre, who met his gaze openly and with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but he shook his head. “No, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He ushered Feyre almost rudely inside and then slammed the door shut before stomping away ahead of them, leaving the two of them behind. Feyre shot Rhys a disturbed look and Rhys shrugged.

“He’s in a better mood than before,” he claimed.

“By the Cauldron’s bubbling contents!” Feyre cursed, already growing annoyed with Lucien.

Rhys pressed a placating kiss to her forehead. “Do I need to separate you already?” Feyre shot him a glare and Rhys gave her a slightly amused smirk in return. “No fighting inside. If you want to hit him, take it outside.”

Feyre snorted and shoved Rhys lightly. “Come on, let’s have our who-gets-to-sleep-with-whom talk.”

Rhys gave her a pained smile. “I hope you brought sharpies and post-its, darling.”

* * *

“What the fuck is your problem Lucien? That Rhys has taken away your new shiny toy?”

Feyre put her hands on her hips and glared down at a sulking Lucien, too agitated to sit down. They’d been talking for almost an hour now, but Lucien remained tight lipped and evasive. Feyre had tried, really tried to be understanding and empathic and put a leash on her temper, but she was sick of his behavior. If he didn’t told them his thoughts on the matter and what he wanted, they were getting nowhere.

“You claim to be in love with me, that you want me, and you got me! I return your feelings you dumbass! But you also love your boyfriend and don’t want to break up with him,” she hissed, pointing at Rhys, who shared the couch with Lucien and observed their fight attentively, but without interrupting. “By whatever miracle the Cauldron cooked up, it so happens that neither Rhys nor I give you much shit about it, but we actually like each other quite a lot. So what is it that you want Lucien? That you get to have me and Rhys both and the two shall wallow in misery separately until you grant us your time and attention? Dream on, Vanserra!”

Lucien loosened an agitated breath and raked a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze.

“Was she like this all the time at work?” Rhys asked Lucien suddenly.

Lucien glanced at his boyfriend. “Pretty much.”

Rhys gave Feyre an appreciative once over, leaning back on the couch. “Damn, I’m so turned on!”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Right? Imagine her being like that all day, directing that adorable rage at you, chewing you out whenever she could.”

Rhys returned his smile. “No wonder you had blue balls every time you came home. I’m impressed you held out as long as you did.”

“For crying out loud, can we go back to the topic?”, Feyre bristled, slightly embarrassed to hear them talking about her that way.

Rhys and Lucien both turned back to her.

“I’m sorry darling, but do you have any idea how hot you look being that mad?” Rhys asked, licking his lips. “I mean, it’s Lucien here who’s into the kinky stuff, but even I feel like bending you over my knee right now and give you a good spanking!”

Heat blossomed in her belly and a low throb fluttered between her legs, but Feyre gave Rhys her best scowl. “Not helping Rhysand!”

Rhys made a little grimace at hearing her say his full name and leaned further back, patting the space between Lucien and him. “Sit down, darling, and let’s talk about this like civilized people. Lucien won’t answer you, if you scream at him. The only thing you manage to do that way is making him horny.”

Both Lucien and Feyre shot Rhys a dirty look, but he remained cheery and kept patting the couch. Greatly annoyed, Feyre sat down between then, trying not to get too close to Lucien. Rhys shifted, so he could look at the both of them, his arm on the backrest behind Feyre.

“Look, babe,” he said, addressing Lucien, “We both like Feyre and Feyre likes us both back. So I actually don’t see what the problem is. Can’t we just all be together?”

Lucien stared off at nothing, his gaze directed inwards. After a while, he turned towards them, eyeing Rhys’ hand that was still laying on the backrest, suspiciously close to Feyre’s shoulder.

“I somehow never took the two of you liking each other into consideration. I’m still not sure, how I feel about this,” Lucien admitted with a frown.

“Well, get used to it, cause I’m dating Rhys too!” Feyre clipped.

“Oh, so we are dating now?” Rhys asked, pleasantly surprised.

Feyre shot him a glare. “You claimed we are dating! I’m just going along with it!”

Lucien muttered something under his breath, Feyre couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” she snapped.

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet, so I wouldn’t say we’re dating,” he grumbled.

Feyre went eerily still, trying to stop herself from attacking him. “I wouldn’t mind dating just Rhys if you continue being such an ass about it!”

Rhys put a hand at her thigh to get Feyre to calm down and she took a deep breath. Lucien had finally opened up and she was ruining it by bitching him out. Trying to calm herself, she placed her hand over Rhys’ on her thigh, but also reached out for Lucien’s hand. To her surprise, he took it without hesitation.

“Look, I get it. I still need to wrap my head around it too. Actually, I still have trouble imagining the two of you as a couple. But can we please try to make this work? Together?”

Lucien shared a look with Rhys behind her shoulder. She couldn’t see Rhys’ face, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly. Lucien and Rhys seemed to converse silently with their eyes and then Lucien looked at her. “So what do you propose?”

“I promised you a date after I had my date with Rhys,” Feyre said. “Let’s have it. Just the two of us. Not weird hate or jealousy sex. A nice, normal date.” Turning to Rhys, she asked, “Would you be okay with that?”

“Of course darling.” He gave her a nod. “By all means, go on a date and for once don’t feel bad about it. I want the both of you to spend time without thinking about me or feeling, like you cheat on my.”

Feyre thanked him with a smile. “And then maybe afterwards, we can go on a date all three of us? Because - just to be clear - from now on, I’m dating the both of you! And the rest… We’ll figure out along the way?” Turning back to Lucien, she said, “If we find we can’t handle it, because we are jealous of the other or feel neglected somehow, we end it. I’ll leave you two alone. You leave me alone.”

Lucien shot her a pained look, but eventually, he nodded. “Okay. If you tell me you want it to end, I’ll respect it. If either of you tells me,” he added, looking at Rhys for confirmation.

“I don’t think I’ll want it to end anytime soon, or I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but yes, I agree to these terms.” Rhys bend forward and pressed a kiss to Feyre’s cheek. “So our _dodgy little mess_ is now officially a _Ménage-à-trois_?”

Feyre frowned at Rhys. _“Gesundheit!"_

Lucien snorted and scooted closer, kissing Feyre’s other cheek. She blushed a bit over him being affectionate, but still scowled at him for laughing at her.

“A love triangle. A three-way-relationship,” he explained. “Rhys likes being a fancy, throwing around loanwords. He thinks, it makes him sound smart.”

“Oh, okay, I guess it is,” Feyre said, blushing over the word _relationship_.

She was dating a couple now. Feyre was pretty sure, that could still be called a _dodgy little mess_.

“So what now?” Lucien asked, looking at the both of them expectantly.

“Well, first I’d propose you and Feyre darling hash out the details for your date,” Rhys proposed, not in the slightest irritated about the earlier jab at him. “And then we just see how things roll out?”

“I’ll still ask to be relocated,” Feyre announced, giving Lucien an apologetic smile. “I can’t work together with you if we are dating. At least not on the same team and sharing an office with you. I’d get distracted too much.”

Lucien’s face darkened, but he nodded. “I understand.”

“And actually, I need you two to do something for me,” Feyre declared, getting up from the couch and walking over to the armchair, sitting down on it, so she was facing them.

“What is is, love?” Lucien asked.

Rhys blinked at him in surprise. He had probably never heard Lucien use that pet name for her. Turning to Feyre, he mouthed _love_ and smirked. She gave him a pout that only caused his smirk to deepen.

“As I said before, I have trouble imagining the two of you as a couple,” she announced. Her palms were growing sweaty rapidly, so she rubbed them on her pants. “But I need to understand that you are, in fact, a couple and I’m dating a couple. So if you gentleman don’t mind,” she said, running her tongue over her lips to wet them, “I’d like the two of you to make out in front of me.

The look on their faces was almost funny.

Game, set and match. Now dating both of them.  
New main quest available: Don’t fuck this up, Feyre and keep it going as long as you can!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Thank you for the many comments, support and reading this fic! Unfortunately, I have to tell you that I'll be off for the next two weeks, as I'm on vacation in another country and don't plan to bring my pc with me. Consequently, there will be no uploads until after May 1st and then maybe (if I can manage to contain myself) also less frequent ones. 
> 
> I hoped, you have enjoyed reading so far and are excited about how Feyrhycien's story continues.   
> (And yes, for all you thirsty ones, of course there'll be a threesome. Geez! It's Feyrhycien!!!)
> 
> Stay tuned and much love, little gremlins! I'll be back in 2 weeks.
> 
> In the meantime, come visit and talk to me on tumblr: [@howtotameyourillyrian ](https://howtotameyourillyrian.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

Feyre’s phone buzzed in her purse and she dug it out in case it was something important, like work phoning her. After all, she was grossly overdrawing her lunch break today. But when she saw who had messaged her, she groaned.

“What is it, love?” Lucien asked, leaning in to peer at the screen.

He used the opportunity to sneakily place his hand on her hip. The touch made her glance around nervously, just in case someone from their company was also coincidentally frequenting the little, hidden restaurant they had been having lunch in and saw them being cuddly by chance. A paranoid act more than anything, because they had chosen this restaurant half an hour away from work on purpose, seeing they were currently on a lunch date.

When Lucien saw the message she’d received, he laughed wholeheartedly and tucked her in against his side, pressing a kiss to her temple as they walked outside. Feyre had a hard time focusing on anything but Lucien laughing.

He started doing that a whole lot more around her lately, but it still caught her off guard every time she heard his clear baritone bubbling with laughter and his little fang that she adored so much peeking out. He was so beautiful when he laughed, it gave her the weirdest tingly feeling all over. She was really in head over heels.

“Really Luce, it’s not funny anymore,” Feyre complained, chucking her phone back into her purse. “Tell him to stop!”

They stepped outside on the curb, walking towards Lucien’s car that was parked a block away, his hand still on her hip. Feyre didn’t pull away, even when they were outside now and being openly affectionate in public. She enjoyed it way too much.

“Do you want him to stop though?” Lucien gave her one of his sharp-edged smiles, leaning closer and whispering into her ear. “I thought, it turned you on.” Feyre blushed a deep red and tried to break loose from Lucien, but he kept his arm tightly wrapped around her. “Although it is growing tedious lately. Rhys is practically ambushing me at all times once I get home now, only to snap pictures for you. I’m afraid, he’ll advance to nudes soon.”

Feyre let out an exasperated sigh, although, if she was being completely honest, she was slightly excited about the prospect of Rhys sending her nudes of him and Lucien.

Ever since she had asked them to make out in front of her, so she could see how she’d react, and had unfortunately let it slip afterwards that, rather than being jealous, she had been incredibly turned on by it, Rhys send her pictures or videos of him and Lucien kissing at least once a day. In the beginning, it was rather cute - not to say hot - but lately, it was getting annoying. If only, because the pictures he sent her were way too much stimulation for 1:30pm on a Monday.

Seeing them reminded her too much of the live show the boys had put on for Feyre on her request back then. She still clearly could remember the way Rhys had tenderly brushed back Lucien’s hair, tangling his fingers into the auburn strands as he cradled the back of Lucien’s head and kissed him with the same soul-scorching intensity that he had kissed Feyre with. She had gotten all hot and bothered just watching it. And then, after a few minutes, their kiss had shifted into the wild, ferocious way Lucien liked to kiss. If Feyre hadn’t been there, sitting stiffly in her armchair and desperately trying to control her breathing, they probably would’ve devoured each other right there on the couch.

“The more I see you kiss, the more it actually starts turning me off!” Feyre claimed grumpily, and Lucien laughed softly again, bending down to bite at her neck playfully, his little fang snagging on her skin just the way she liked it.

“I doubt that's possible,” he said with a huge grin.

Laughing Lucien, playful Lucien - Feyre was almost sad, she wouldn't get to see him as often during work hours from now on.

After their talk three weeks ago, Feyre had met straight up with HR to discuss the possibilities of a relocation. She hadn't even needed to give reasons, her feud with Lucien was well known within the company. They first had tried to give her a place within the same department, but when she had mentioned, she wouldn't mind getting out from under Tamlin - and under him seemed exactly where Tamlin had wanted her to be lately, she'd hinted - they had made some inquiries.

As it happened, there was a spot about to open on the design team, and Feyre had secretly always wanted to work in design anyways, so HR arranged a meeting between her and the department head Thesan Dawning, who had happily hired Feyre on the spot after she'd demonstrated her skills, both the computer and with a pencil and paper.

“How did you even end up in O’Tool’s department?” Thesan had asked, admiring the quick sketch she had procured on the spot.

Feyre had shrugged. “They had an open position, I applied, got the job. Managing a project is close enough to painting. You start out with an idea someone has and then try to create something that is close enough to their imagination.”

Tamlin hadn't taken the news that Feyre was leaving very well and had gone to complain to the higher ups about Thesan stealing away his employees, but there was little he could do, especially after Feyre handed in her formal resignation. Not that he didn't try. He tried to bribe her, butter up to her - nothing worked.

Of course, he blamed everything on Lucien and tried to make his life miserable for it, but Lucien simply didn't care. He was too happy at the moment to bother with Tamlin. And he had point blank told Feyre, now that she was leaving him behind - making sure to put on an appropriately grave face while he did, earning him a smack to the chest and an eye roll - that he had no qualms about quitting and leaving Prythian Inc. behind altogether. He could easily get a new job elsewhere.

“And after all, I get to see you after work now, so I’m not desperate to stay anymore,” he'd said, nibbling at her earlobe - and then proceeded to seduce her, causing Feyre to check off another location on her Office Sex Bingo.

_On his desk - check!_

Now, Lucien clicked his remote and his car unlocked, greeting them with blinking lights. They got in and buckled up.

“No, you're right, I might never be turned off by those pictures,” Feyre admitted and then batted her eyelashes coyly at Lucien. “But soon I won't have you to take care of me when I get overly excited by them. Who should I ask then to help me with my needs? My new colleagues?

Lucien's grin vanished faster than the sun behind clouds. Oh, he was so easy to rile up. That, she’d miss greatly. Feyre bit her lip, but it did nothing to deter her smile. Lucien roughly pulled her closer, cupping her chin with one hand in a dominating grip.

“Don't even think about it, Archeron,” he glowered. “Your ass is mine!”

“I don't remember you having my ass yet,” she taunted further, enjoying the grim smile that spread on his face.

It was thrilling. Yes, she loved playful, happy Lucien, but dangerous, kinky Lucien was still her favorite when it came to sex.

“We can change that,” he promised and kissed her hard. “But for now,” he declared, releasing her much to her chagrin, “let's get back to the office. Cauldron forbid we leave Tamlin alone for long enough for him to actually work and run the whole thing into the ground.”

Sharing a laugh, they drove back to work to finish up their last week as co-workers.

* * *

“So Lucien declared today, that my ass was his!”

Rhys shot Feyre a surprised look over his Fettuccine. “I didn’t know your ass was available, darling, else I’d have called dips,” he said with a little pout in Lucien’s direction.

Feyre snorted into her wineglass and watched the two of them start bickering over who had the first right to her behind. They weren’t arguing for real, so it was highly amusing to watch their little mock fight about their alleged claim over her. It was also surprising they managed to have such fights at all, considering Lucien was still battling with no small amounts of jealousy and conflicted emotions whenever Rhys took Feyre out for a date without him. But they were slowly getting used to their new relationship.

And lately they had started having these at-home dinner dates, where Feyre came over to spend the evening with the two of them. So far, they had been nice: pleasant conversation over a dinner, either cooked by Lucien or Rhys, later cuddling on the couch, soft kisses shared between all three of them, some light fondling. It was pure bliss.

Only, Feyre was slowly getting antsy about things going further than a simple three-way makeout sessions on the couch. Since she decided to date the both of them, she had had sex with both Rhys and Lucien, but separately. Yet, Rhys had told her again, that eventually he wanted to have her and Lucien both in bed at the same time and Lucien had dropped some hints in the same direction just yesterday.

Feyre felt her cheeks heat imagining a threesome with the two of them and hastily took a sip of her wine, trying to focus again on safer topics - namely the still ongoing discussion of who would get to have her ass first.

“It’s actually your fault in the first place,” Lucien announced, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “Because you keep sending those pictures of us kissing, Feyre threatened to have her needs taken care of by some sleazebag colleague of hers.”

“Exactly,” Feyre confirmed, setting down her glass. “Seeing that this sleazebag colleague,” she casually pointed at Lucien with her thumb,” soon won’t be available anymore starting from next week, you better stop sending me pictures that excite me during work, or I’ll need to find another way to blow off steam. Or another colleague.”

The tortured look Rhys gave her was too cute and Feyre had to bite back a laugh. “Oh and by the way, guys! My ass is not available, for neither of you!”

Lucien and Rhys looked at her as if she had just announced their immediate breakup.

“But darling, why?”

“Yeah, why love?”

“We wouldn’t put it in right away!” Rhys proposed.

Lucien nodded his head vigorously. “Right. We’ll ease you into it! It won’t hurt with proper preparation, should you be afraid of that!”

“My ass is not up for auction, end of discussion!” Feyre clipped and shoved a mouthful of pasta into her mouth to indicate she was done talking.

“Aw man!”

Lucien and Rhys both let their shoulders drop in disappointment.

“But it feels so good!” Rhys griped, stabbing his noodles as if Feyre not wanting anal sex was the pasta’s fault.

Curious despite her refusal, Feyre asked, “What exactly? Putting it in or receiving?”

“Both!” Lucien and Rhys said at the same time and then shared a conspiratory grin.

Feyre narrowed their eyes at them. She still wasn’t excited about the thought of them coming in through the back door, and as far as she knew (which was being blissfully ignorant), it likely felt better for men than for women anyways, right? But the direction their conversation had gone had given her an idea regarding her threesome concerns.

“Ok then,” she said, downing the rest of her wine in a few big gulps. Fixing her eyes on the two men in front of her, she licked a droplet from her lips. “Show me!”

* * *

“Feyre, you sure about this?” Rhys asked.

He was uncharacteristically nervous. So was Lucien, but he hid it better, probably because he was occupied with procuring a chair for Feyre at the moment. Kicking the door shut with his heel, he rolled a comfy desk chair in front of the bed for Feyre to sit in.

“Yes,” she said, sounding more assured than she actually felt, and lowered herself onto the chair like a queen on her throne, about to enjoy her evening’s entertainment

In a sense she was, although she wasn’t sure that watching two guys having sex could be called such. Sex education maybe. Live porn even. But entertainment? Feyre swallowed and shifted in her seat. She was already high-strung and they hadn’t even started touching or kissing.

Rhys nodded, more to himself than anyone, and turned to Lucien. “You ok with this?”

“I’m good. I don’t mind Feyre watching us.” Lucien gave him a tense smile, but came over to Feyre and bend down for a quick kiss. “Are you gonna be ok though, love?”

“We’ll see,” she answered honestly.

If she couldn’t stand the sight of them in bed together, she’d never agree to a threesome. That much was clear to all of them. So she had asked them to let her watch while they did the do, same as when she had asked them to kiss in front of her.

“Ok.”

Lucien kissed her again and then stepped aside for Rhys, who gave Feyre a kiss, too. While they kissed, Lucien ran his hand up and down Rhys’ back in a slow caress. When Rhys finally released Feyre’s lips and straightened, Lucien let his hand run up upwards until it rested on Rhys’ neck, holding him by the nape in the same steel grip that Lucien used on Feyre, and forcefully pulled him down for a deep kiss.

Feyre loosened a breath and leaned back in her chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and forming a tight ball to ease some of the nervous tension that coiled up tightly in her chest already.

And then she quietly watched as the first layers of clothing fluttered to the ground.


	15. Chapter 15

Her mouth was so dry, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. It felt like sandpaper. She was close to dehydration, because every ounce of fluid her body had previously held was either coating her body in form of a faint sheen of perspiration or pooling between her legs, soaking her underwear and leggings. Feyre had no doubt that, if she would touch the outside of her leggings at her crotch, her fingers would come away covered in her juices.

She was too hot, her skin felt too tight on her, like ill-fitting clothes, and she could only muster shallow breathing at best. Knees tucked in tight under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, she was a little ball of tension, stiff and wounded up to high pitch.

She didn’t dare move or make a sound, hell, she didn’t even dare blink, afraid to draw attention to herself and disturb or miss anything from the scene that played out in front of her eyes: her two lovers having sex.

It was hot. Everything about it turned her on viciously. The way their sweat-slick bodies glided against each other, how their faces twisted in the throes of passion - even the weak little whimpers Rhys let out as Lucien thrust into him.

Feyre wasn't turned off or disgusted - she was about to come just by watching. All it’d need was the faintest touch on her swollen clit, maybe her thumb pressed down and a quick rub over her clothes and Feyre was sure she'd come undone right where she sat. But she didn't. She remained stiff and still, limbs locked tight and legs up her chest, observing and trying to remind herself to keep breathing.

Lucien cried out Rhys’ name in a strangled voice, his little fang digging hard into his bottom lip as he bit down on it when he came, and crumpled on top of his boyfriend. And then they just held each other, completely spent, kissing and cuddling and trying to calm their laboured breathing.

“I'll finish you in a minute,” Lucien mumbled into Rhys’ neck, spread like an eagle on top of him. Rhys hummed and kissed his temple, running his fingers through his hair.

And then both of their gazes simultaneously fell on Feyre, reminding themselves of their little audience. Feyre was sure, they had actually forgotten she was there, too consumed with their lovemaking.

Lucien started smiling a wicked little smile and reached down for Rhys still hard cock. He began stroking him, eyes on Feyre. Rhys gave a breathy moan and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, but he forced them open again almost immediately and, he too, fixed his eyes on Feyre. To her, it felt like an invitation.

Slowly, Feyre uncoiled to her feet, stretching out her stiff legs, and stood from the chair. She began quietly taking off her clothes, never averting her eyes from the two men. The only time she lost eye contact was when she pulled her knee length sweater over her head. Lucien and Rhys watched in silence and with keen eyes how she shed layer after layer. When she was standing wholly naked before them, the air hitting her naked, flushed skin, she stepped closer and climbed onto the bed.

“Let me?” she asked in a sultry voice that was not her own.

Lucien smirked and slid off Rhys, settling onto his side instead, releasing Rhys’ cock from his grip. Feyre readily replaced his hand with her mouth.

* * *

Feyre woke to the beeping of an alarm clock that sounded nothing like her own. Confused, she blinked her eyes open and was met with the gorgeous sight of unfairly long, black lashes that curled beautifully against Rhys’ cheeks. His lips were puckered in a a delicious little pout, delicious enough to kiss. So - still hazy from sleep - Feyre leaned forward and did.

Rhys didn't stir, but someone else behind Feyre did.

“Good morning, love.”

Lucien's arm around her waist tightened and pulled her back against him, her butt connecting perfectly with the cradle his groin formed for it. He pressed a sweet kiss onto her neck and Feyre arched more fully against him, relishing the feeling of his naked body against hers in the morning. This hadn't been something she had gotten to experience with Lucien so far.

Well, last night she had gotten to experience a lot of things she never had experienced so far - with both Lucien and Rhys. Lucien's hands now skimming over her body reminded her too vividly of what had went down after Rhys’ had spilled himself into her mouth with a choked groan last night.

The two of them had caressed her all over until Feyre hadn't been able to distinguish whose hands and mouths were whose anymore. They had touched and kissed and sucked and softly bitten every part of her body until she had been a quivering, shaking, panting mess and had come - repeatedly.

“Good morning, my little fox,” Feyre replied, smiling to herself, and turned in his arms so she could look at him.

Lucien in the morning was a sight that Feyre wouldn’t mind seeing more often. His face was relaxed and soft, a small smile on his lips. There was no edge to it yet, his eye didn’t have its usual sharp glint. As if his snarky demeanour had yet to wake up. A long lock of auburn hair spilled down the side of his face and between his neck and shoulder, so Feyre reached up and brushed it back, baring his neck to her greedy mouth. Lucien’s hands slid down her back to her butt, squeezing affectionately.

Feyre hadn’t planned to stay over yesterday. She hadn’t even planned to have that experience with them yet. But it all had just fallen right into place and it had felt insanely good. Even now, she wasn’t feeling awkward, despite waking up between two naked men.

_What a way to spent a Monday night_ , she thought amused while nipping Lucien’s jaw.

_Monday._

Feyre’s eyes flew open in alarm. “Shit!”

Lucien jolted at her sudden exclamation and even Rhys stirred behind them.

“What is it, love?”

“Yesterday was Monday. It’s Tuesday! We got work!” She sat up, frantically looking for a clock or something else that told her the time. “How late is it?”

“Relax. It’s 6:30am, we still got plenty of time.”

Lucien pulled her back down onto the mattress, going for a kiss, but Feyre pushed him away.

“Lucien, I didn’t bring any clothes or make-up with me. I need to go home before work!”

Feyre tried to sit up again, but heavy arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind and a face was pressed against the back of her neck. Rhys had snuggled up without fully waking.

“Careful,” Lucien grinned, laying on his side, head propped up on one hand, reaching out to run a hand over Rhys’ arm. “This one is clingy in the morning.”

“I know,” Feyre replied without thinking and then hastily bit her lip, shooting Lucien an apologetic glance.

A flicker of annoyance lit up on his face, but it was gone on a flash. Still, Feyre scooted closer as best as she could with koala Rhys still firmly clinging to her back, and pressed herself against him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

She didn’t meant to remind Lucien that Rhys had slept over at her place before, when he still hadn’t.

“It’s fine,” Lucien replied and gave her a little kiss and then leaned over her, kissing Rhys on the cheek, too.

“You, on the other hand, seem eager in the morning,” she teased, feeling a certain hardness digging into her stomach as Lucien leaned over her.

He laughed softly and gently helped Feyre peel Rhys’ arm off her, so she could get out of bed. But when Feyre climbed over him, he detained her by her waist and pulled her down on him, so she was straddling his hips, sitting right on where he was the most eager. Feyre bit back a moan.

“I’m always eager for you, love,” he growled and rolled his hips against her, making Feyre gasp and smack him.

“Stop it, Luce! We have no time for this!”

She climbed off him and the bed and set to hunt down her clothes. She grimaced at the thought of putting on her dirty panties and leggings, but got dressed nonetheless. It was not like she had any other clothes to wear. It would make do until she could take a shower at home.

“I’ll be off then,” she declared, turning around.

“Wait, let’s go together!”

The sight she was greeted with, made her smile. Rhys had rolled onto Lucien, lying on top of him like big, lazy cat, snoring softly.  

Lucien nudged Rhys, trying to get him to wake up. “Off, hon. Feyre and I need to go to work.”

Rhys stirred at the mention of Feyre’s name and he raised his head, blinking sleepily at Lucien and then looking around. When he saw Feyre, his face broke into a sleepy smile.

“Da-lin! Monin!.”

A warm fuzzy heat spread in Feyre’s chest and her stomach fluttered lightly. Sitting back on the edge of the bed, she leaned down for a kiss. “Good morning, lazy kitten.”

Rhys purred like a real cat and tried to pull her down on the bed again, but Feyre struggled against him, firmly pushing him off. “No Rhys, I have to go home before work to shower and change into proper clothes.”

“You can take a shower here,” Lucien offered, wiggling out from under Rhys now that he was distracted by Feyre. “Actually, we can take a shower together,” he added with a suggestive grin.

“Sure. And be late for work, because you won’t be able to keep your hands off me,” Feyre scoffed lightly. Lucien did nothing to deny her claim, meaning she had hit the nail on the head. “I’d rather not put on my dirty clothes again after I showered. And I can’t go to work in leggins.”

“Fine, he grumbled,” trying to shake Rhys awake, who gone back to slumber with his head in Feyre’s lap, hugging her around the waist. “Wake up hon!”

Rhys made an indignated sound and snuggled deeper into Feyre’s lap. She laughed and stroked his head.

“Wake up, kitten,” she cooed softly.

Rhys muttered something and let go of her waist, turning around so he was looking up at them, head still in her lap. He squinted against the brightness of day, his hair mussed from sleep. He looked adorable enough that Feyre felt the strong urge to smother him with kisses all over his face. Lucien did.

“Rhys, I need you to make breakfast for Feyre while I take a shower,” he murmured in between kisses.

“Breakfast,” Rhys repeated and closed his eyes again with a little smile, enjoying Lucien’s onslaught of kisses. But before he could catch Lucien in another hug, the latter had already pulled away with an exasperated sigh.

“I take a shower, you try to raise Sleeping Beauty,” Lucien proposed, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “And then I’ll drive you to your place.”

“Ok,” Feyre said and then shamelessly watched a gloriously naked Lucien slip out of the bedroom for his shower.

Looking down at Rhys, whose chest rose and fell in a steady sleeper’s rhythm, she feared that somehow, she had lost this round.

* * *

The pan gave a sharp hiss when the egg made contact with the hot metal and oil and a delicious scent made it’s way over to Feyre, who was nursing a huge cup of coffee, leaning her backside casually against the counter next to a shirtless Rhys, who cracked another egg into the sizzling pan.

It had been incredibly hard to coax him out of bed, but once he was up and awake, Rhys was almost disgustingly chipper. He reached around her and pushed two slices of toast into the toaster, brushing up against her body when he did. Feyre knew it had been deliberate, because Rhys also put his nose behind her ear and nuzzled the little free patch of skin behind it, pressing a small kiss right beneath her ear whilst inhaling.

“Don't,” Feyre mumbled, trying to pull away, but she was caged between his body and the counter. When did his hands even settle on her hips? Smooth bastard.

Rhys pulled away, searching her face.

“I'm smelly,” Feyre explained, sipping her coffee to mask how uncomfortable she was. She wanted a shower. Dearly.

“Ah!” Rhys pressed his nose backs against her skin. “But I like how you smell right now.” He inhaled deeply. “A hint of your lovely perfume, mixed with woman, sweat, sex,” he put some extra stress on the last word, “and traces of Lucien and me.” He inhaled again. “My new favorite scent.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but blushed, and lightly swatted at his chest. Rhys chuckled and pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“You smile like you had some fun last night - like we all did.”

Rhys smirked at her, but he looked also slightly inquisitive. Feyre's blush deepened.

“I had a lot of fun last night!” she answered his backhanded question honestly.

Rhys responded by giving her a brilliant smile and nuzzling her neck again. Remembering he too hadn't showered yet, she took a sneaky wiff. He was right - the mixture of sweat and sex should smell revolting, but instead he smelled like her new favorite scent. She wanted to bottle it and call it “Morning After”. If she could, she'd spritz it all over her pillow and sheets at home and snuggle up in it on a lonely night.

Returning his attention to her breakfast, Rhys hummed happily under his breath and Feyre poured herself another coffee. When she saw Lucien padding over to them from the bedroom, she poured a cup for him too.

“Thanks, love!”

Lucien pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and then snuggled up to Rhys from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck and peering over his shoulder down into the pan.

“Morning hon. Great to see you awake. Eggs and toast?”

Rhys turned his face to Lucien's and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I would've made you pancakes and bacon, but Feyre's in a hurry,” Rhys explained and flipped the eggs over.

“Noooo! What are you doing?!” Lucien suddenly yelled panicked, releasing Rhys and ripping the spatula out of his hand. “SUNNY SIDE UP!”

“Babe, you can't have yolk dripping from your egg toast,” Rhys explained with the patient of a parent speaking to his toddler.

“I thought we're talking about eggs _and_ toast! Not egg toast!”

“Feyre darling wanted something quick. Something - I quote - 'I can stuff in my face while walking’.

Lucien turned to Feyre and shot her a look of such outright indignation and betrayal, she snorted and almost choked on her coffee. Lucien was picky over his breakfast eggs. Who would've known.

“Sorry fox, I didn't know it was this important to you,” she said after she'd swallowed her mouthful of coffee. “Next time, we'll have them sunny side up.”

Lucien's face softened hearing her use her new pet name for him and he nodded. Then he flashed her a little shy smile. “Next time, huh?”

Feyre did what she'd do for Rhys - she rolled her eyes and turned away, fighting her blush. Lucien saw it anyways and laughed happily, smuggling a little kiss onto her cheek and also the back of Rhys neck for good measure, and then sat down to put on his socks.

Feyre sipped her coffee, taking in the scene out of the corner of her eyes: Rhys was taking the eggs out the pan, still shirtless and hair unruly from sleep, radiating happy calm while his body went through the motions of what she suspected was his everyday morning routine.

Lucien had slipped into a stool at the bar, putting on his socks. His shirt was still open, his hair damp and combed back behind his ears. They were cute elf ears, slightly pointed at the top. Or like a foxes. She really noticed them for the first time.

When Lucien noticed Feyre watching him, he smiled and wordlessly held out one cuff for her to button up. Feyre set down her coffee and went over to him, helping him with the cuffs. Lucien rewarded her with a quick peck to the cheek and began buttoning his shirt. Rhys came over with a sandwich for each of them, and pecked her other cheek.

The scene was so ridiculously sweet, casual and domestic, Feyre felt a weird bubble of anxiety bloom in her chest. This was no hot and heavy, passionate affair. This was nothing compared to the fantastic sex they’d had yesterday.

This was couple stuff and Feyre found, she desperately wanted this to be her every morning: preparing for work with Lucien, helping him with his cuffs, having Rhys make them breakfast, some bickering and then soft kisses.

She wanted in, she realized. More than the dates and the sex, Feyre wanted in on their relationship. And it scared the everloving shit out of her.

Another change in the game. New goal: become their girlfriend!


	16. Chapter 16

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?”

Feyre put the last of her personal belongings into a box and turned to Lucien with an amused smile. “You mean other than doing you?”

Lucien gave her a sharp, edged smile. “Love, for that you don't need plans. That's gonna happen anyways.”

Feyre felt her body thrum, as if it was already preparing for the adventures that were to come. “Doing Rhys?”

Lucien prowled over to her desk and came up behind her, drawing her back against him. “Same difference, I dare say,” he huffed into her ear and then stuck his tongue in.

Feyre squeaked and ripped her head away, turning around to smack him. “Naughty!” she scolded.

Lucien’s eye sparkled dangerously. “Always!”

Feyre laughed and Lucien pulled her closer for a kiss. “Say, what options are left on your little Office Sex Bingo?” he asked against her lips.

“Hm?” Feyre was too engrossed in them kissing to properly listen to him.

“Your Office Sex Bingo,” Lucien repeated, pulling back to look at Feyre. “Where else did you imagine us doing it?”

Feyre blushed heavily. “How do you know about that?”

Lucien gave her a shrewd look. “You told Rhys about it, love. Of course he’d tell me something like this. To be exact, he taunted me with it to rile me up, while we - “ he fell silent for a moment, his voice trailing off.

He didn’t want to admit he had sex with Rhys without her, which was completely ridiculous. Considerate, but unneeded. Feyre let him know she was okay by kissing the underside of his jaw.

“And you kept muttering bingo under your breath in the copy room yesterday,” Lucien continued, smiling again.

She had indeed. Since it had been their last week working together, they’d rather naughtily made good use of their shared office and the fact, that it was not yet that suspicious to be seen together walking down hallways or slipping into the copy room for a quickie. Feyre would miss Office Sex Bingo.

She wanted to tell Lucien as much, when there was a knock on the door and the person entered without waiting for a reply. Lucien hastily let go of Feyre’s hips, but it was too late to put any distance between them without drawing attention to the fact, that they were - in fact - deliberately putting distance between them.

Ianthe stuck her head inside, but her sweet smile faded when she looked at the two of them standing a bit too close in the otherwise empty and spacious office.

“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.

 _Busted_ , Feyre thought.

“I was trying to seduce Feyre into having sex with me all over the office,” Lucien replied honestly.

Feyre gasped and looked at him in outrage. “Lucien!” she hissed.

He couldn't tell Ianthe this. He couldn't tell anybody. They might no longer work on the same team, but they still worked in the same company. People would talk. HR would get involved.

Ianthe laughed a fake amused laugh, assuming Lucien was joking, but her eyes were filled with suspicion.

“You see, were no longer colleagues, so I thought I might give it a shot!” Lucien shrugged and stepped away from Feyre’s desk, returning to his own with no hurry. “Pity she keeps refusing me so adamantly. You sure hate me, don’t you Archeron?”

“Oh you have now idea, Vanserra!” she shot back, leveling a hard glare on him, something she hadn’t done in a while.

Lucien flopped down in his chair, his face a careful mask of amusement, but Feyre saw the spark of arousal gleaming in his eye. This was almost like their old game. She couldn’t help it - she was slightly turned on.

Feyre channeled her old persona and gave Lucien the cold shoulder, turning to Ianthe. “You need something, Ianthe?”

However, Ianthe wasn’t looking at her, but kept eyeing Lucien rather obviously, a sultry smile on her lips. Feyre frowned. She didn’t like the way Ianthe looked at Lucien.

 _Hands off, he’s mine,_ she snarled silently in her head. “Ianthe,” she said a bit louder.

Tamlin’s assistant finally turned her gaze away from Lucien and looked at her with a raised eyebrows.

“I asked, if you needed something,” Feyre repeated, trying to keep her voice pleasant. She wanted nothing more than tell Ianthe to stop ogling Lucien and fuck off, but she couldn’t.

“Oh, yes. I’m here to pick the two of you up for Feyre’s farewell party,” she declared, smiling like the poster child on a Kinder package. Lucien and Feyre stared back in silence.

“The farewell party? Well, it’s also an end-of-project party, but Tamlin thought, we could throw them together,” Ianthe elaborated, running a hand through her glossy blonde hair and smiling at Lucien again.

“I never heard of a farewell party,” he deadpanned. “I have plans tonight.”

“Me neither,” Feyre said. “And I have plans too.”

Well, it was only dinner with Lucien and Rhys at their place, and then hopefully something else, but Feyre had been looking forward to it all week.

“But Tamlin asked me to do this for you!” Ianthe said, still smiling. Really, didn’t her face hurt? “I planned everything for the whole week. I even booked a table at your favorite bar, Feyre!”

Feyre blinked in surprise. She didn’t have a favorite bar, at least not that she knew of. Ianthe finally stopped smiling, but the pleading look she exchanged her smile for wasn’t any better.

“Please Feyre, everyone was really looking forward to giving you a proper goodbye,” she said with a pretty pout. “They all cleared their schedules for you!”

Ianthe was trying to emotionally blackmail her into accepting, and damn her, but it was working. The thought of standing up her colleagues, who had better things to do than hang around at some bar with her on a Friday afternoon, but made time for her anyways, was enough to make Feyre give in.

She shared a quick look with Lucien, who had his mouth pressed into a thin line and shook his head imperceptibly. She gave him a weak smile in apology.

“I guess I could come over for a drink. But I have to call my date first and let him know, I’ll be late,” Feyre said hesitantly.

Ianthe rewarded Feyre with a simpering smile and turned to Lucien. “And you Luce?”

“Lucien for you,” he growled, not answering her question, although Ianthe obviously waited for an answer.

With a heavy heart, Feyre dug out her phone from her purse. She didn’t want to phone Rhys in front of Ianthe, but the other woman didn't seem inclined to leave the room for Feyre to make her call. Sighing, she sent a message instead.

Feyre: _Hey! Apparently, there is a farewell party going on for me today, so I'll be late for dinner. Late dinner or raincheck?_

Rhys responded immediately - by calling back. Feyre grew flustered and almost dropped her phone.

“Hey,” she said when picking up, shooting Lucien a nervous glance.

“Hey darling. Any way my two favorite people will get out of this?”

Feyre gave a deep sigh. “No, I don't think so. They planned ahead and reserved a table and everything.”

Feyre dropped her voice to a low volume and turned away from Ianthe and Lucien, but she had no doubt they still could hear her. And Ianthe was too nosy for her own good. Thankfully, Lucien tried to engage Ianthe in a conversation to distract her from Feyre’s call, although his tone was more than reluctant.

“I’d rather hurry and have dinner with you,” Feyre whispered into the phone. “I’ll try to be quick?”

“What about our delightful little redhead? Are you gonna spirit my fox away, lovely fairy?” Rhys purred.

“Only for one drink,” Feyre promised, smiling over how dramatic he was being.  

“Ah! But the time flows differently in the land of the Fae and in the Mortal Lands. I might be withered and old, not to say unattractive, by the time you two decide to return to me,” Rhys sighed theatrical.

Feyre giggled softly and the strained conversation behind her ceased almost immediately. “Should I come home then?” she asked. Despite his light-natured tone, she knew Rhys was disappointed. He had been looking forward to their dinner as much as she had.

Rhys was silent for a moment and Feyre nervously played with her hair. “Darling, I always want you and Luce home with me. But I’ll also gladly wait. Just don’t make me wait too long.”

“Okay,” she softly breathed into the phone, blushing from happy embarrassment. “See you later? I’ll keep you updated.”

“See you later, darling!”

Feyre ended the call and turned back towards Lucien and Ianthe. What she saw made the happy bubble that had grown in her chest during the call burst immediately: Ianthe was perching on Lucien’s desk, much like Feyre had that first time she had worn a dress to work, a hand on his knee. Lucien was stiff as a board, his jaw locked. He was distinctly uncomfortable with Ianthe’s touch, but he didn’t snap at her as Feyre would have expected him to.

Bile raised in Feyre’s throat. Couldn’t Ianthe see, that Lucien didn’t want her this close to him? Also, she was pregnant with Tamlin’s baby, wasn’t she? At least, that’s what she had told Feyre more than once, excusing herself from her tasks because of a serious case of morning sickness. Not that it was forbidden to hook up with another man or date while pregnant, but to go after a guy in the same office? Feyre was disgusted. Even more so, because it was her guy Ianthe was currently pawing.

“I’m good to go,” she announced loudly. “But only for an hour or two at most. I have dinner waiting for me at home.”

As she had hoped, Ianthe slipped off the table and Lucien almost bolted out of his chair and away from her.

“Okay, so let’s go.” Ianthe hooked her arms with Feyre’s, as if she was afraid Feyre would run away if she didn’t, and tugged her towards the door.

“Wait, Ianthe, I have to bring my box over to my new office first. Can’t I just meet you there?” Feyre asked, slipping her arm out of Ianthe’s hold. “I promise, I’ll come, but I need to finish cleaning up here!

Ianthe pursed her lips. “You promise you’ll come? I can wait around, if you want?”

“No need,” Lucien clipped. “I’ll make sure to bring Feyre. Give me the address and we’ll be there in half an hour. I need to make a call first anyways.”

Feyre could see Ianthe didn’t like this and she turned to Feyre again, so Feyre quickly turned around and started throwing things from her desk into her box randomly to appear as if she still had to pack.

Lucien had also turned his back to Ianthe already, phone at his ear.

“Hon? It’s me. I’ll be coming home late. You remember the annoying co-worker I finally got rid off? Yeah. Well, we’re having a farewell party for her. No, I’m afraid, I have to go. Wouldn’t want to appear unfriendly now, would I?”

Lucien threw Feyre a mischievous look over the shoulder and Feyre narrowed her eyes a him and pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling. She could almost hear Rhys laughing from all the way across the office.

“Yeah. I should be home by 8 latest. Thanks, hon.” Lucien turned around, still on the phone with Rhys, giving Feyre a sneaky, slow once-over. “I'll make it up to you. How about dessert? I'll pick some up for you on the way home. I see what I can find in that place we're going to.”

 _Sneaky fox!_ Feyre felt her cheeks heat and hastily turned around to hide her blush from Ianthe. She grabbed her purse and the box with her personal belongings while Lucien ended the call.

“You can go on Ianthe,” Feyre assured her. “We’ll be right over… wherever that is.”

But Ianthe still stuck around, an uncertain smile directed at Lucien. “Was that your girlfriend? I didn't know you had one.” She glanced at Feyre as she said this. Feyre wondered, whether her stapler was heavy enough to cause mortal damage if she threw it into Ianthe’s pretty face. Was that woman trying to rile her up on purpose?

“My boyfriend,” Lucien announced unceremoniously.

Ianthe's face fell and then she curled her lip in faint disgust. Okay. That was it. Feyre would deck her right in the face. She just needed to get rid of the box she was holding first.

“You're gay?” Another quick side glance to Feyre. “Oh silly me. I always assumed the two of you were an item, you just hid it very well. Like just right now when I came in.”

Ice cold fear swept through Feyre. Shit, that woman was really perceptive.  

“We were joking. I'm gay. So gay!” Lucien declared.

“Gayest dude I ever met,” Feyre confirmed with a hasty nod.

“The gayest,” Lucien topped.

“So you're not available?” Ianthe said with another little pout in Lucien's direction.

“Definitely not. I'm in a happy relationship with a man. No place for anyone else there,” Lucien said with a sharp glare.

Feyre knew he had said this to get Ianthe to back off, but she couldn't help but feel a little stab of hurt. Lucien saying this hit too close to what she feared: her just being a past-time entertainment for the couple. A new, exciting plaything for bed.

“Anyways, can you give me the address now? I don't have all night.”

Ianthe continued pouting, but held her phone out for Lucien to check the address, not wanting to announce it out aloud, lest Feyre heard it, ruining the ‘surprise’. Really, it was ridiculous. Feyre rolled her eyes and Lucien frowned seeing the address. He shot Ianthe a venomous glare before complimenting her out of the office. She turned, wanting to say something, but Lucien threw the door shut in her face.

“Cauldron boil and fry me, what is wrong with this woman?” Lucien cursed, raking a hand through his hair. “Isn't she with Tamlin? Pregnant with his child? I was crawling in my skin.”

Feyre went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, attempting to soothe him. “You know, if she came on to Tamlin like this, it's kind of no surprise he did her,” she remarked.

Lucien shuddered. “I don't even want to think about it. I can totally see her waiting for him in his office, sprawled naked on his desk or in his chair and the only way to get her to leave is to fuck her.” He shuddered again, more violently this time.

“Hey, you okay?” Feyre asked. Something wasn’t right. He was more shaken than he should've been. Sure, Ianthe had been annoying, but her coming on to him like this shouldn’t warrant such a strong reaction from him.

“Yeah, sure. I just - I don't want to be around someone like her, let alone be touched by her. I'm not good at dealing with these type of people.”

Lucien took the box out of Feyre's hands and placed it next to the door. “We have to keep her away from Rhys. He's even worse with these kind of women.” Lucien drew Feyre into his arms and pressed his face against her neck, inhaling deeply.

There was some history there, she sensed it. But she was also flattered he had asked her to help protect Rhys. Maybe, she wasn’t just their new plaything?

“Why is he bad with these type of women?” Feyre asked carefully.

“He had some bad experience with an ex… well, not exactly an ex... you should ask him, I'm sure he'll tell you. It's why he was so pissed at me over you in terms of consent.”

 _Abused,_ she realized. Her lover had been abused, probably raped by some shit woman, there was no other explanation. She didn’t even want to think about it. The thought alone that someone wonderful as Rhys, someone who cared and loved so deeply, who was so thoughtful, had been used by someone else for…

Hugging Lucien tighter, Feyre began to tremble.

“He's okay now, love. We just need to keep him away from people like Ianthe,” Lucien said, sensing her distress. “She looks like the type to prey on guys who are in a relationship or interested in someone else.”

That would explain the glances she’d thrown Feyre. She had been assuming - rightly - they had something going on between them. Where Feyre didn’t want to get in between a couple on purpose and felt bad for it, Ianthe did it deliberately. Feyre was disgusted.

Lucien placed a kiss on the side of her neck and hugged her even closer, tickling her lightly with his fingers and causing Feyre to laugh, distracting her momentarily.

“What are you doing, little fox?”

“I’m recharging,” he growled and playfully bit her where he had just kissed.

Feyre shoved him off her with a another laugh. “Come on and let's get this over with. I don't want to let Rhys waiting any longer than necessary.”

Lucien caught her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “As my lady dictates.”

Today’s side quest: Keep the other woman away from your man. Both of them.


	17. Chapter 17

“So Feyre, how long have you been living together with your boyfriend?”

Feyre set down the disgusting pink drink she was sipping out of politeness and frowned in confusion at Ianthe. “Excuse me?”

She could feel the attention of Tamlin beside her shift immediately towards her. He interrupted the talk he had with Bron and Hart, two colleagues in their department, and turned his head to them. 

Ianthe gave Feyre her usual simpering smile. “Well, earlier on the phone, you said something about coming home later, so I assumed, you were living with someone? You mentioned a date. Boyfriend?”

“Uhhg,” Feyre made, glancing uncomfortably around the table. She actually didn’t know, whether she could call Rhys and Lucien her boyfriends yet. They were just dating, right?

“So you’re living together?”

“No,” she answered and took another sip of her drink and regretted it immediately. 

It was a vile concoction of sugary sweet sirup and some fruity spirits and juice, that had her taste buds commit suicide upon contact. The overload of sugar masked the hard alcohol it contained. It was only the size of a martini glass, but on an empty stomach, it was about to make her keel over. 

Tamlin had ordered the first round for all of them. Beer for the guys, pink cocktails for the girls. It was a nice gesture, but he could’ve asked what they wanted. She would’ve preferred something like a Whiskey Sour. Or a beer. Ianthe was sipping on a drink deceptively similar to hers and Feyre could only hope, it was non-alcoholic. This amount of alcohol couldn’t be healthy for a baby. It wasn’t even healthy for Feyre. If she didn’t know any better, she might have suspected that Tamlin wanted to get her drunk tonight.

That thought only added to her already fraying temper. The ‘bar’ Ianthe had ‘reserved’ a table in was Tamlin’s favorite Sport’s Bar around the corner. There couldn’t have been any week long planning involved, let alone tables reserved, because you couldn’t reserve tables at this place. And for the matter of all those colleagues who’d cleared their schedules for them: it was only Bron, Hart, Ianthe and Tamlin sitting squashed together in a booth with her and Lucien. Feyre’s favorite colleague Alis didn’t even know about the alleged ‘farewell’ party. Feyre knew that for a fact. She’d asked Alis, shooting her a quick message when she didn’t see the sweet, gentle woman upon arrival.

Ianthe, and probably Tamlin, had very successfully tricked Feyre into spending her Friday evening with them in a fucking Sport’s Bar, sipping nasty drinks and sitting entirely too close to Tamlin, who kept inching closer to her, causing Feyre to keep inching away and consequently closer to Lucien, who sat crammed between Feyre and the wall. If Tamlin came any closer, she’d need to crawl into Lucien’s lap. Not that she minded. She’d rather officially announce publicly to dating Lucien than suffering Tamlin’s hands on her. 

Actually, she was so uncomfortable with her former boss creeping closer, she had considered it more than once already. The only thing that kept her from doing so was Lucien’s earlier announcement to Ianthe, that he was gay and in a happy relationship with someone obviously not Feyre. For Lucien’s sake, she couldn’t claim otherwise. After all, she only had to endure this evening, and then she’d be free of Tamlin and Ianthe. Lucien had to keep working there.

“So you’re not living together, but you call his place home?”

_ Geez, that woman won’t let up,  _ Feyre thought. “Yes. And I also don’t feel like talking about it,” she snapped at the other woman. There was no way she’d share info on Rhys with that predator.

Tamlin beside her grew very still and eyed her with open displeasure. On her other side, Lucien took a drag of his beer. She could see him smiling against the bottle as he drank and his knee brushed against hers for a moment. She flushed in embarrassment. Shoot, of course he heard. And Rhys’ place was his too.

Ianthe gave a little pout, clearly disappointed about not getting any more info on Feyre’s alleged boyfriend, and turned to Lucien.

“And you Lucien? Do you live with your boyfriend?” She batted her eyelashes at him and gave him a coy smile. 

Seemed like she had worked over the shock of hearing he was gay - by completely disregarding the fact that he had clearly told her, he was not interested. Maybe Feyre’s drink contained enough alcohol to irritate Ianthe’s mucus membranes? Because she really wanted to throw it into Ianthe’s face. 

_ She’s pregnant _ , Feyre reminded herself and clenched her teeth together.

Lucien took another swig of his beer, not answering, but Bron blurted, “You’re gay, Lucien?”

He said in loud enough for several head to turn their way. Feyre threw Bron a withering glare and Hart nudged his buddy in the side with an elbow. The two of them were nice enough, Feyre didn’t have anything against them, but they sure were a bit simple sometimes.

“Ups, sorry Lucien. I’m just surprised. I thought -” Bron’s voice trailed off, but he very obviously glanced at Feyre for a second. 

Did the whole damn office suspect something going on between them? Feyre bit her lip and reached out for her drink on instinct, but luckily remembered in time how shitty it was and put it back on the table. 

Lucien raised his eyebrow sarcastically and gave Bron a sharp edged smile. “Are you having issues with my sexual orientation?”

“What? I’m… No! I don’t! Absolutely not!” Bron stammered wide-eyed. Lucien’s grin turned even sharper - and Bron blushed a deep crimson. Feyre couldn’t help but burst into laughter alongside Hart. 

“Dude, you crushing on Vanserra?” Hart asked, nudging Bron again with his elbow.

“Fuck off,” Bron mumbled and downed his bottle of beer in one go.

Lucien beside her snickered and Feyre wanted to laugh too, but an ominous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. What if Bron was Lucien’s next office hookup? Lucien and Rhys were in an open relationship. Casual hookups were fine. Sure, right now she was dating them and they had assured her more than once, that this thing between them wasn’t just a hookup, but involved actual feelings, but the three of them hadn’t yet discussed the rules to their  _ ménage à trois.  _ Given the opportunity, would Lucien play Office Sex Bingo with someone else soon?

Feyre wasn’t sure, she could cope, if he did. She didn’t want to share Lucien with anyone but Rhys. Not Ianthe, not Bron, nor whoever else came along.

Noticing she’d fallen quiet, Lucien pressed his knee against Feyre’s again. “Hey, you alright?”

“Huh?” Feyre looked up at him, seeing him studying her with a worried look on his face. “Uhg, yeah… yeah, I’m good. This drink is just really strong,” she hedged, pointing to the revolting pink liquid in front of her. The glass was still mostly full. 

“I’ll go get another round. What do you want?” Lucien offered quietly. 

“Can you get me a beer please?” she whispered back. 

“Sure, lo -” 

Luckily, Lucien caught himself in time before the term of endearment made it all the way over his lips and he suddenly turned adorably bashful. He couldn’t call her pet names here, but Feyre was giddy with happiness that he almost did. Like, it had become so natural for him to call her that, that he never really noticed anymore.

Lucien reached around her and patted Tamlin on the shoulder. “Can you let me out, boss? I’m getting some more drinks. Bron, another beer?”

“Ah, no, I’d rather have a cocktail instead,” Bron confessed, while Tamlin, Feyre, and Lucien wiggled out of their bench.

“Me too,” Hart chimmed in.

Letting Tamlin slide back into the booth first, Feyre squeezed herself back on the bench and slipped her vile drink towards the guys with a secretive little smile. “Wanna try this?” 

Bron took one curious sip of her drink and started coughing, spilling almost half of the drink on the table. 

“Careful, you’re spilling it!” Ianthe screeched and reached for the glass, placing it securely in front of her.

“Wow, no thank you,” Bron wheezed. 

Hart didn’t even bother to taste it. “I’ll have a Killer Cool Aid please,” he said to Lucien.

“Same,” Bron ordered, still coughing.

“You don’t like the drink?” Tamlin asked suddenly, looking at Feyre.

“Uhm. Sorry, but it’s a bit too strong for my tastes.”

Tamlin’s brow furrowed, but he nodded, reaching for the drink menu. “Let me get you something else then.”

“Oh, it’s alright, I asked Lucien to get a beer for me,” Feyre quickly refused. Also, who was he to order drinks for her? She was capable of deciding for herself what she wanted to drink.

Tamlin looked up from the menu, staring at her levely. “A beer?”

Feyre frowned in return. “Yeah!” she said, her tone growing defensive.

“Well, why don’t I order you a Bay Breeze instead. It doesn’t have that much alcohol and it's sweet,” he said, perusing the menu again.

Feyre almost snorted. Not that much alcohol? A Bay Breeze was mostly Vodka and ice with some juice. The guy really wanted to get her drunk!

“No thank you, I’d rather have a beer,” she refused again politely.

“But beer doesn’t suit woman,” Tamlin claimed. 

Feyre blinked at him in surprise, What year did he get this ideas from? 1820?

“I’ll have a beer, thanks,” Feyre said, voice strained. She was getting pissed and rightfully so.

“But, Feyre, you shouldn’t -”

“Tamlin, she just told you she doesn’t want a fucking cocktail,” Lucien snapped. 

Tamlin glowered at Lucien, clenching his fists so hard around the menu, his knuckles turned white. He was getting angry at Lucien and Feyre didn’t want them to fight. She placed her hand over Tamlin’s and made him set down the drink menu. 

“Thank you, but I’m getting a beer. I actually don’t like cocktails all that much. And I’m allergic to pineapple.”

Tamlin’s jaw worked, but then he looked at her hand on his and his face grew soft. Feyre hastily retracted her hand. She didn’t want to give him any ideas. Especially because it was painfully clear he already had some ideas - and painfully outdated ones on top of that.

Lucien shot her an alarmed look, but after she gave him a little smile and a wave, he went off to order their drinks at the bar. Feyre scooted a bit away from Tamlin and quickly started a conversation with Bron and Hart. When Lucien returned with their drinks a few minutes later, she got up, so he could slide on the bench between Tamlin and Feyre to act as a physical barrier. Unseen be the rest of the group, Lucien slipped his hand in Feyre’s under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

She couldn’t get away from Tamlin soon enough. And she had the strong feeling, Lucien shared the sentiment.

* * *

Feyre was nibbling impatiently on a curly fry, trying not to devour the whole plate in front her, so she would still be able to eat Rhys’ dinner later, silently urging the others to eat faster so she could go home.

Apparently, Tamlin had not only decided to order them whatever drinks he saw fit, he had also ordered them food and refused to change the order, despite Lucien and Feyre telling him repeatedly that they had dinner plans.

_ Stubborn ass, _ she thought, leaning back on the bench so she could look around Lucien, throwing Tamlin another glare. It wasn’t her first. Unfortunately the glaring distracted her enough that Feyre only realized the second fry, when she had already shoved it into her mouth and started chewing.

A hand suddenly settled on her bouncing knee and squeezed softly. Feyre sighed, another fry vanishing into her mouth, and she tried to relax. Lucien gave her a quick, secret smile and then pulled the plate of fries out of her reach. Feyre gave him a nod of thanks for getting the temptation out of the way.

Lucien opened his mouth to say something to her, but stiffened suddenly and frowned down at the tabletop, as if he could see through it. 

“Feyre?” he asked confused.

“Hm?” She blinked up at him. “What is it?”

Lucien’s jaw locked tight and he squeezed her knee harder. Then he swirled around and glared at Ianthe, who sat opposite to Tamlin and Lucien and gave him a sultry smile. Alarmed, Feyre leaned back, so she could glance under the table. What she saw had her almost flip out: Ianthe was pressing her bare feet against Lucien’s legs, running her toes up and down his calf.

“Feyre, can you please let me out? I need to go to bathroom for a bit,” he said, his face hard and angry.

Feyre couldn’t get up fast enough and accidentally knocked over her half-empty beer bottle in her haste, the beer slowly dripping out and pooling on the table. Bron snatched it up for Feyre and then proceeded to throw napkins on it, while continuing to munch on his potato wedges. She thanked him with a nod.

Lucien bolted to the bathroom like he’d been stung by a bee. Ianthe looked like she would go after him, but Hart and Bron were blocking her way out from the bench. 

“Excuse me guys,” she cooed softly. “Could I -”

“Don’t you dare,” Feyre hissed violently, and everyone at the table jolted, caught off guard by her sharp tone.

The guys shared confused looks between themselves, but Ianthe glowered, donning her ridiculous pout and then reaching for Feyre’s long discarded cocktail, sipping it. 

“You shouldn’t drink that,” Feyre immediately said. She knew it wasn’t her business, but she could keep herself from intervening, when a pregnant woman had strong liquor in front of her.

“And why is that?” Ianthe asked sickly sweet. 

Feyre had more tact than to blurt out the news about her circumstances, especially considering she didn’t know if Ianthe had told Tamlin yet. Instead she scowled at Ianthe, who took another sip, smiling like a cat over a bowl of cream. It made Feyre feel physically sick. 

She was about to sit back down, but then she noticed she’d have to sit next to Tamlin if she did. And by the eager look on his face, he was really looking forward to it. He even braced his arm on the back of the bench.

Scrambling to come up with an excuse, Feyre pointed at the mess of beer and napkins on the table. “I’m getting something to clean that up.”

Without bothering to wait for a reply, Feyre turned around and stalked off. She was really sick of Tamlin and Ianthe. Didn’t they understand a no? Ianthe had announced to everyone that Feyre and Lucien both had boyfriends. That should've been a clear indicator, that they were off the market.

Feyre winched at the thought. She herself was dating a couple. There shouldn’t be any space for her either in their relationship. Furthermore, she had continued to pursue both of them, even after she found out about them being in a relationship with each other. But well, in her case, the guys had encouraged her to pursue them. So that was different, wasn’t it?

Brought down by her own doubts and thoughts, Feyre flagged down the barkeeper, asking for a rag or something else to wipe her table with. While he grumpily scoured the bar for something to give her, a body sidled next to her and a familiar hand settled on her hip.

“Sorry for leaving you alone, love. But I really needed to get away from her.”

“Lucien, what if someone sees?” she scolded softly, but her heart wasn't in it. 

The bar wasn’t really visible from where they sat. And actually, she wanted them to see. She wanted the whole damn world to see that this beautiful man in front of her was hers and they couldn’t have him. And it seemed, Lucien shared the sentiment.

“I don’t care,” he growled and bend down for a kiss. Feyre returned the kiss eagerly, but pulled back very soon. 

“I don't want to go back there,” she confessed. “Tamlin makes me uncomfortable and I’m about to punch Ianthe in the face, pregnant or not.”

“Let's not,” Lucien simply said. “I'll go get your purse and tell them, we're leaving. We've already stayed longer than promised anyways.” He brought his face down again to hers and brushed her nose with his. “And if I remember correctly, there's a hungry kitten waiting for us at home.”

Feyre blushed deeply, tentatively reaching up to clutch Lucien's shirt. “About me saying this thing about going home -” 

He cut her off with another kiss. “I was insanely happy when you did. It means, you're comfortable around Rhys and me and our relationship, right?”

“Yes.”

Lucien smiled again and stole yet another quick kiss from her lips. “I'll go get your purse. Be right back!”

Feyre let go of Lucien with a ridiculously happy smile, watching him vanish around the corner to the booth the others were sitting at. After a minute or so, she heard loud agitated voices and then an annoyed looking Lucien came along with her purse. 

“What happened?” Feyre asked panicked, but Lucien just worldlessy shook his head and took Feyre's hand, pulling her along with him. 

“Luce! What's going on?” she asked again when they were outside. 

“I’m done,” he replied curtly. “I quit.”

Feyre stopped dead and forced Lucien to stop walking. “You did what? Why?”

Lucien turned back to her with a grin so wide and radiant, Feyre was afraid she’d go blind. It was like looking at the sun directly. 

“Well, I told them, we’d be going, because you were already late for your date and I was too. And I might have mentioned I also felt uncomfortable about Ianthe fondling me with her feet under the table and refusing to take a hint.”

“You did not!” Feyre’s eyes were wide as saucers.

“Damn well I did! Ianthe, of course, denied ever having done so, and Tamlin took her side, naturally. I mean, even Bron and Hart spoke up for me, but Tamlin refused to believe it.” Lucien shook his head and began walking again, pulling a shocked Feyre with him. “Well, and then I thought ‘this is how it’ll be like. Ianthe molesting me at work and Tamlin turning a blind eye’. And I’m not having it. So I told him, I’m out. I’ll hand in my formal note on Monday and take the rest of my vacation, so I don’t have to go back anymore.”

Feyre stopped again and forced Lucien to look at her. “But what will you do now?”

Lucien shrugged. “Look for a new job, I guess? I have some contacts I can call. Rhys has also bothered me for ages to stop working for the Tool and join his company.”

“Doing a  super boring corporate job that’s not suspicious or borderline illegal at all?” Feyre’s lips twitched.

Lucien gave her a conspiratory grin. “Right!”

They started laughing at the same time and fell into each other’s arm, giggling and snickering through their kiss. They continued snickering, when Lucien pulled Feyre into the next bakery, to buy cakes for dessert. They were still snickering, while they stood in the elevator of Lucien’s building, leading up to the guys’ apartment, eager to spread the news to a waiting Rhys.

Just then, a thought struck Feyre. She took the cake box from Lucien's hand and pulled off the little decoratively bow on the package, handing the box back to Lucien. She dug through her pocket, until she found one of the obligatory bobby pins that seemed to live in every pocket of her pants and bags and fixed the bow to the pin before securing it on the top of her hair. She eyed herself in the elevator wall, content with how the little red bow looked on her. Taking the box from Lucien again, she popped the lid open and scooped up some chocolate whip from one of the cakes with her index finger.

“What are you doing, love?” Lucien laughed. 

The elevator doors pinged open and they got out, walking towards the apartment. 

“Well,” Feyre said, watching Lucien unlock the front door. “You said, you'd pick up dessert for Rhys on the way home.” She carefully smeared the whipped cream on the tip of her nose. “I better look the part then.”

Goal to clear level 1 of the girlfriend game: make them always want to have dessert.


	18. Chapter 18

It had begun as a splendid Friday.

Feyre managed to finish an assignment she had been working on for a while now. Afterwards, she went to lunch with Alis, who still worked at her old department and shared the newest gossip with her. Apparently the two people they'd hired for Lucien's and her position, someone named Brannagh and Dagdan, were a catastrophe, more engrossed with each other than the work they were supposed to accomplish. Sure, Feyre and Lucien had been distracted quite a bit as well, first with hating each other and then with not so much hating each other, but at least they had gotten their shit done.

“Everyone calls then 'the twins’, because not only do they look kinda similar, but it's like they're grown together at the hip. They even speak for the other,” Alis whispered in a conspiratorial voice.

Feyre shook her head, amused against her will. “Did you get them as some sort of package deal? 2 for 1?”

“Seems like someone recommended them to Tamlin. Ianthe probably. She's ordering him around quite a lot lately and strangely, he listens. It's getting out of hand. Bron and Hart consider quitting. Most people consider quitting actually. Everyone is pretty upset about Lucien and you leaving. It has filtered down that Ianthe and Tamlin somehow were responsible for you two quitting and seeing how Ianthe thinks she's running the department, people are starting to get really upset.”

Feyre hummed and nibbled on her straw, deep in thought. Maybe Ianthe finally told Tamlin she was pregnant? Although, it was disgusting to use a baby as means to gain control over him and the department, it wasn't as if Ianthe wasn't rotten to the core, so Feyre wouldn’t be surprised, if that really had been the case.

Now she understood why Tamlin might've come over yesterday and visited her in her new office, begging Feyre too come work for him again. Yet, he had also kind of asked her out. She shuddered thinking about it.

After lunch, Feyre lazed around, chatting with Tarquin, one of her new colleagues who'd shown up around 2pm, over coffee. She found him extremely likable.

It was around 3pm that the cramps started.

First, she thought she might've eaten something bad. But when she went to the toilet, thinking she might have a diarrhea attack any second now, she found the reason for her cramping - she'd gotten her period.

Feyre was so annoyed and frustrated, she almost cried. She had planned to sleep over at the guy's place for the whole weekend. She had even bought some special lingerie to put on for what she had hoped would be a very sexy sleepover. Well, it had been all for naught. There was no way she would be getting sexy with them tonight. Or anytime soon.

And then she remembered she hadn't brought any napkins or tampons. _Shit_. She was stranded in the lady’s room!

Thankfully, she had taken her phone with her, expecting a longer session. Unlocking the device, she pondered who to call for help. Alis only worked half days on Fridays, she was bound to have gone home already. She could hardly ask her new colleague of two weeks to go shopping for napkins for her. Feyre would rather stuff her underwear with toilet paper and run to the next drugstore than explain to Tarquin which tampons she needed.

With a heavy sigh, Feyre calculated how much toilet paper she could stuff in her pants without it showing, when her phone chimed.

Lucien: _any chance you get to sneak out early? I'm in the building for some paperwork._

Lucien! Yes! She could probably ask him! She'd still die of shame afterwards, but at least her pants would be clean when she did.

Feyre: _SOS. I'm in the lady’s room. 3rd floor! Come asap!_

It didn't take long. Lucien practically ripped the door of its hinges. “Feyre?” he yelled.

“I'm here! In the first stall!” she replied.

Hurried footsteps sounded and then the doorknob rattled. “Fey, what is it. Open up!” He started pounding on the door, sounding desperate.

“By the Cauldron, would you please chill? I'm okay. Don't come in!” Feyre rolled her eyes. Really, so dramatic. “I had a little accident and I need you to get something for me.”

She was met with silence from the other side of the door. “You send me an SOS,” Lucien said, sounding offended.

“Well, yes. I'm having an emergency here,” she hedged.

“Are you sick?”

“No, not really.”

“Are you dying? Bleeding out from a stomach wound? Cause these are things I register under emergency.”

Feyre blew out a breath, her cheeks growing warm. Why was this so difficult? She just had to tell him, she was on her period. “I'm not dying, but you could say, I'm bleeding from a stomach wound, though it’s not lethal.”

Unsurprisingly, Lucien caught up on the double meaning right away. “You’re menstruating?”

Feyre buried her face in her hands. “Yes,” she bit our behind clenched teeth, breathing through a cramp that just had to hit her this exact moment. “I don't have tampons or napkins on me.”

“Oh. Ok. I'll go buy some for you. Which brand do you prefer?”

Feyre's head whipped up. He had just asked that, as if was the most normal thing in the world to call over the guy you're dating and get him to buy you sanitary products.

“Do you know OB? The normal tampons,” she said, still slightly embarrassed. But she _had_ called him over for this exact reason. “And some Always napkins. The ones with wings and 3 drops on the package. There's a drugstore around the corner.”

“Ok. Do you need anything else, love?”

“No. Thank you Luce. Really!”

He simply laughed and assured her, it was no big deal. But it was. At least to her. Most men she had dated had treated her period like it was something contagious and had preferred to keep away until it was over.

Gosh, was there a way to fall in love with someone you already were in love with? Because Feyre was pretty sure, she just had.

Lucien didn't take long. He was back after 20 minutes; 20 excruciating minutes in which Feyre’s stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. After Lucien and trying not throttle him every day when she still though they hated each other, her periods were Feyre's biggest personal challenge. She had cycles that were almost painless, only a little tug and pull low inside her belly, and then she had cycles like this: her stomach being shredded apart, the pain radiating all the way up her back and down her butt and legs, coming over her in waves of pure agony.

Lucien gently knocked on the door. “I got everything. Open up please?”

“No, just slide it under the door.” Feyre whimpered through a particularly nasty cramp.

“Feyre?” Lucien sounded alarmed. “Please love, you're clearly not okay. Let me help!”

“There's nothing you can do, fox. Just give me my stuff please, so I can get out of here.”

Lucien relented. But instead of sliding his spoils under the door, he chose to hand them to her from over the stall. When she saw the size of the bag, she understood why.

“Lucien. Just how many packages did you buy?” Feyre laughed, grabbing the bag and tugging lightly, so he knew he could let go.

But when she opened the bag and looked inside, there was more than just tampons and napkins. He'd bought her 2 packages of tampons and napkins each, several bars of chocolate, potato chips, a hot water bottle, Advil and something that very much resembled granny panties. _Period panties_ , the label read. They were black, looking a bit like boxer briefs. Big enough to cover everything down there, so there would be no leaking on the sides and perfect to use with napkins.

Stunned, Feyre forgot to be embarrassed and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Lucien peered worriedly inside. Wordlessly, Feyre held up the panties.

“Ah, well.” Lucien gave her a sheepish smile. “I saw them hanging there next to all the napkins and stuff. And I know you always wear that sexy lace stuff when you come over to our place, but I thought it wasn't all that convenient for when you're bleeding, so…”

_I love you._ It almost slipped out right there and then, but another cramp saved Feye from confessing her feelings to him while sitting on a toilet and bleeding from her private parts.

“Thank you, fox. So much,” she managed to wheeze instead.

Lucien came closer and kissed the top of her head. “There's bottled water in there. Take an Advil, love.”

Feyre wasn't big on taking drugs, but she didn't fight him. While she rummaged in the bag for the water, Lucien closed the stall door behind him and then kneeled to help her take off her shoes, pants and underwear.

Dangling the racy, sheer excuse of panties she’d been wearing in front of her with a raised eyebrow, he shot her a triumphant smile. “I was so right!”

She laughed weakly and allowed him to guide her feet through the holes of the period panties while she took a pill. “I hate to admit, but you usually are. Such a clever little fox!”

Lucien grinned smugly and stole a quick kiss from her lips. Feyre took a napkin from the box and placed it into her new underwear and then reached for the tampons, but hesitated. She didn't want Lucien to watch her put it in. He understood from the look on her face.

“I'll wait outside,” he declared with another quick kiss and left the stall, closing the door behind him.

Relieved, Feyre unwrapped the tampon and inserted it. She wiped herself off as best as she could with the crappy toilet paper and then slipped on the panties. They were comfortable as hell. She needed to get more of them.

Lucien was waiting patiently when she stepped out of the stall and rinsed her hands. “Do you have to go back to work or are you ready to go home?” he asked.

Feyre carefully studied her hands, making sure she hadn’t missed even the tiniest speck of blood. “No, I’m good to go. I’ve finished my assignment earlier than expected and I’ve been lazing about anyways. I just need to pick up my stuff from the office.”

“Good.” Lucien pressed a little kiss to her temple and took up the plastic bag she had discarded on the floor next to her feet. “I’ll be waiting downstairs in the garage.”

Feyre shot him a surprised look. “You’re driving me home?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean, you planned to stay over this weekend, right?” It was his turn to look surprised.

“Oh!” Feyre averted her gaze, turning away from him and reaching for the paper towels to dry off. “But I’m on my period. I can’t…” Lucien angled his head quizzically, for once not understanding what she was hinting at. “I can’t have sex,” Feyre declared, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah, I guessed,” he simply answered. “Although Rhys would say, a true pirate also conquers the red sea.” Feyre scowled hard and Lucien flashed her a wicked grin. “What? He would totally say that!”

“You’re disgusting. Both of you!”

She threw the paper towels into the bin. She was confused. What was the point of staying over at their place the whole weekend, if it weren’t for sex? They always ended up having sex when she was over. It had been the sole purpose for this weekend, as far as she was concerned.

Lucien laughed again and drew her into his arms. “Come home with me. We’ll lounge on the couch, watching movies, Rhys will cook some soul food. How does mac-and-cheese sound? Let’s pig out for the whole weekend. We could have a Game of Thrones marathon? Or Harry Potter, if you want.”

That actually sounded lovely, even without the sex. “I’ve never watched Harry Potter,” Feyre confessed.

“It’s settled then. We can’t let you walk around with gaps in education that horrid.”

* * *

When Feyre had thought Lucien had been fussy, it was nothing compared to Rhys.

The second they arrived at the guys’ home, he came hurrying to the door, regarding Feyre with a look that one would give an injured soldier who was dragged off the battlefield, not a girl on her period. He hugged her so tenderly, as if afraid he might hurt her, and pressed the softest of kisses into her hair. Apparently, Lucien had given him a warning beforehand.

And then he picked her up princess style and carried her to the couch, where a nest of pillows and blankets were already waiting for her. Gently lowering her onto the couch, Rhys wrapped her up in blankets and then tenderly stroked her face, looking concerned. “What do you need, darling?”

“First of all, I need for you two to stop fussing. You’re being ridiculous.”

Feyre swatted away Rhys’ hand. She was embarrassed as hell about them making such a big deal out of her period. Maybe, she should have gone home after all and secluded herself in her bedroom with a pint of ice cream and her laptop.

“Fat chance,” Lucien scoffed, bringing the bag with the stuff he’d bought with him. “You want a hot water bottle, love?”

Feyre nodded faintly and Lucien dug out the bottle from the bag before heading for the kitchen, no doubt to heat some water. Rhys still knelt in front of the couch, regarding her with big puppy eyes. Feyre sighed.

“Do you have some sweatpants I can borrow?” she asked. Her high waisted pants were digging uncomfortably into her aching tummy.

Rhys sprinted off faster that Usain Bolt in his prime and she couldn’t help but smile after him. The two of them were so precious in their worry. She almost felt like she was really their girlfriend and they were taking care of her.

Rhys came back just as fast as he had sprinted off, carrying a pair of soft, grey track pants. He helped her tug loose the blankets he had wrapped around her earlier and watched as she changed. He didn’t comment on the granny panties, concern etched into the lines all over his face. He mutely held out a soft cotton T-shirt for her to change into as well. Feyre took it with a thankful smile and replaced her button-down blouse for the loose, warm fabric. She faintly wondered, whose it was.

Changed and bundled up again, Feyre patted the couch next to her. “Come here, kitten.” Rhys followed suit, but he was still being ridiculously hesitant and careful. Feyre snorted and snuggled into his arms, breathing in his comforting smell.

“I’m not dying, you now? Only hurting a bit. Okay, more than a bit, but it’ll be over in a day or two. No need to look like this.”

Rhys buried his nose in her hair. “I hate to see you suffering,” he confessed quietly.

Feyre’s heart gave a pang and she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I’m already feeling better. How could I not, with the two of you spoiling me like this?”

Rhys gave a little chuckle. “And how exactly should I spoil you now?”

Feyre gave him a suggestive smile. “You could try to kiss me better!”

He happily obliged, causing Lucien to witness them making out on the couch when he came back with the hot water bottle. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“Feyre asked me to,” Rhys defended himself, smoothing Feyre's T-shirt back down; it had ridden up when his hand had sneaked underneath.

“It’s true, fox,” Feyre confirmed, a bit flushed from Rhys’ blistering kisses. “I’m not sick, you know? I might not want to have sex right now, but I still can kiss. You’re welcome to kiss me better too.”

Grumbling, Lucien handed her the hot water bottle, which Feyre eagerly pressed to her stomach, and then gave her a kiss of his own. She hummed happily against his lips.

“You know darling, a true pirate also conquers the red sea.”

Feyre pulled her lips from Lucien’s and groaned audibly. Lucien just burst into laughter and then tackled a bewildered Rhys, so they landed flat on the couch, kissing him deeply.

“I told you, he’d say that,” Lucien claimed gleefully after he’d broken away from his boyfriend.

“I hate you both,” Feyre mumbled, adjusting her hot water bottle and watching the guys exchange a loving grin.

“You most definitely don’t,” Lucien declared and pulled Rhys upright. The two of them settled on either side of her, snuggling close.

Yeah, she most definitely didn’t. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing. Not yet anyways.

* * *

“Really, I can just sleep on the couch,” Feyre insisted for the 100th time.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh and looked pleadingly at Lucien. He had tried to assure Feyre over and over again she was welcome to share their bed, but she’d remained adamant about sleeping on the couch. She didn’t want to wake them in case she needed to get up at night. Feyre never slept well when on her period, too afraid about leaking and soiling the sheets, even if she never did. And she also didn’t want to keep them from anything.

“And why would you do that, love?” Lucien asked, taking over the badger-batton from Rhys.

Feyre pulled up the blanket higher and tried to hide her burning face behind it. Lucien and Rhys reached out to pull it back down at the same time. Okay, no hiding then.

“I don’t want you two to go without sex just because of me,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to be around to watch it, because it’ll just turn me on, but I won’t get to do anything about it.”

The guys exchanged a surprised look and then burst into laughter.

“Stop laughing, I’m serious!” Feyre snarled.

“Who’s being ridiculous now, darling, hm?” Rhys purred, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “We’re fine without sex for once.”

“But this weekend! I thought-”

“Ah, yes. We were looking forward to a steamy weekend. But contrary to what you seem to believe, we are not that desperate to have sex all the time,” Lucien said with a sharp smile.

“Yeah. It’s not like we do it daily or something,” Rhys added, still chuckling. “I can live with abstaining for a few days.”

Feyre was completely floored. “You don’t do it every day?”

Lucien snorted loudly and hid his smile behind one broad hand and Rhys looked at her, as if she had said something really stupid.  

“What?” she asked defensively. “Come on, when I’m around, we always do it. You two are like horny teenagers! I can barely make it inside your apartment before you tackle me most nights!” She pointed a finger at Lucien. “This one attacks me every chance he gets and you’re no better Rhysand!”

Rhys shook his head in disbelief and Lucien snorted again, his body riddled with silent laughter.

“Feyre, in our defense, you’re no saint either. Do you even realize you’re making bedroom eyes whenever you’re around us? Or the suggestive little comments you make? Or how often you _happen_ to bend over, presenting us with a rather scandalous view of your ass or tits? Me and Luce might be horny teenagers, but you are that hot, older girl from across the street that stands purposely in front of her window to undress or parades around a skimpy bikini, knowing full well we poor little losers are watching!”

Feyre turned scarlet. She _had_ been doing a lot of bending and flashing her cleavage around them, entirely on purpose every time.

“Wanna know another secret?” Lucien added, a sharp edge to his grin and his eye glinting mischievously. Feyre was immediately on her guard. “We barely do it anymore when you’re not around. We’re way too exhausted after a night with you.”

Feyre opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say. She turned to Rhys, wanting to ask him whether Lucien was joking. But Rhys just smirked at her.

“Oh,” she remarked softly. “I didn’t know.” Well, she too was certainly exhausted after one of their long bedroom sessions. One reason, why she only stayed over when she planned to go to work late or on the weekends nowadays. But they had appeared to have so much stamina. “I kind of thought you were sex gods or something,” she mumbled into the blanket she’d pulled up again.

This time, even Rhys laughed outright at her. “If we’re sex gods, you’re our goddess. Geez, Feyre, do you have any idea how desperate I am to satisfy you and Lucien both? How hard I’m trying?”

“Doesn’t help that you’re insatiable, love,” Lucien added with a suggestive wink.

“As if you’re any better!” she shot back with a glare. “If anything, you’re the worst out of all of us with all your kinky shit and your constant _just once more_!”

“That might be true,” he conceded, not at all embarrassed.

“Come to bed with us, darling,” Rhys pleaded softly and gave her a kiss. “I want to snuggle up with the both of you.”

Feyre’s insides turned to mush over his soft plea. “Okay!”

A beatific smile overtook his features. Seeing this smile alone made giving-in worth it. “I might need to use the toilet at night though,” Feyre warned them.

“That’s fine, love,” Lucien assured her, pulling off the mountain of blankets they had buried her under.

“And I might turn and toss a lot tonight,” she added.

“That’s not a problem.” Rhys stood from the couch and helped her stand. “If it means I get to wake up with my two favorite people tomorrow, you’re welcome to toss and turn as much as you want, darling.”

Feyre didn’t know how else to respond than throw herself into Rhys’ arms and hide her face in his chest. Lucien sneakily used the opportunity to join the hug. Feyre heard the two of them kiss over her head.

“Let’s tuck our girl into bed, hon.” Lucien’s voice was warm and affectionate. It resonated with the warm feeling that started spreading in her gut.

The feeling was still there when she was safely tucked into bed between them, both wearing clothes to sleep for once. There was nothing even remotely sexy in the way they hugged her between them, on how their bodies were entangled under the blanket. Her tummy still hurt like a bitch and the hot water bottle still pressed to it made her sweat a bit, especially now that she lay under thick covers and two warm bodies were sandwiching her between them, but Feyre felt content. Even more content, in fact, than she usually felt after a bout of hot, passionate sex.

Maybe, she would sleep over more often in the future. Just so she could snuggle up in bed with them, close her eyes and wake up again the next morning to be graced with the one thing she loved most: the smile of the two men she had fallen in love with.

Goal to clear level 2 of the girlfriend game: try not to seduce them every time, but make them want to spend time with you just because they like having you around.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“Knock knock!”

Feyre raised her head from her computer screen when she heard the familiar voice that decidedly didn’t belong into her workplace. Smiling at her with the power of 30 suns was Rhys, leaning into the open doorway her of her office, which was mercifully empty except for her.

“Rhys!” Feyre beamed and got up, hurrying over to him and placing her hands on his chest. He bend down to greet her with a soft kiss.

“Hello darling!”

“What are you doing here?” she breathed, a happy flush overtaking her cheeks.

“Oh, I had some business to take care of at Prythian and I thought, I’d drop by and say hello,” he purred, his eyes sparkling with affection. He looked over her shoulder and glanced around her office. “So this is where you work now?”

“Ah yes! Are these for me?”

Feyre curiously eyed the bouquet of flowers Rhys was holding in his right. Rhys followed her gaze and chuckled softly. “No actually. These are for someone else.”

“Oh!” Feyre tried not to sound too disappointed. After all, Rhys visiting her at work was already nice enough. He caught her slightly downturned lips anyways and planted a kiss to her cheek. 

“In a way, they are for you though, darling,” he conceded. 

Feyre shot him a confused look. “What do you - ?”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Feyre stuck her head out of the office, checking whether one of the 3 colleagues she shared her new office with was coming back, but when she saw Tamlin’s blond head skulking closer, a low groan escaped her. 

Ever since she had changed departments three weeks ago, Tamlin showed up almost daily around this time, coming to bother her by asking if she wanted to have coffee with him, or asking how she liked her new job. Feyre had guessed that after 3 weeks of constant refusal, he’d take the hint and stop bothering her, but he was persistent.

“Right on cue,” Rhys said amused and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer by a fraction.

“What?” Feyre asked, dumbfounded, looking up to Rhys. 

He smiled down at her, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wait and see!”

The closer Tamlin got to them, the deeper his frown got. He came to a stop next to them, his gaze flitting between Rhys and Feyre, who looked way too entangled for anyone to assume a casual relationship between them.

“Hello Feyre,” Tamlin said eventually, shooting daggers at Rhys, who smiled back at him with barely concealed amusement.

“Hello Tamlin,” Feyre replied curtly.

But Tamlin wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was seizing up Rhys, his jaw clenched. His eyes dropped to Rhys’ hand on Feyre’s waist. When he raised his eyes to Rhys’ again, they were hard.

“Tamlin O’Tool,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“Ah, the reason, Feyre darling was late for dinner that day!” Rhys’ slightly arrogant smirk had Tamlin’s hackles rise. “Rhysand Nash. Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of my girlfriend for so long.”

Feyre blinked at Rhys in surprise, but had her face back under control when Tamlin’s eyes fell on her.  _ Girlfriend.  _ He had probably just said it to piss off Tamlin or get him to finally back off, but she still liked how it sounded. If only, it were true!

Tamlin grew still, his frown deepening. Deciding to make use of the situation, Feyre let her hand slide up Rhys’ chest in a proprietary and intimate gesture, pressing even closer to him, all the while looking at Tamlin. After all, Lucien wasn’t the only one, she could play games with.

“You’re welcome,” Tamlin ground out.

“Anything you need from me, Tamlin?” Feyre asked sickly sweet. 

“Actually, darling, Tamlin here showing up is rather convenient,” Rhys purred. “Saves us the trouble of seeking him out.” And then, to Feyre’s surprise, he held out the flowers to Tamlin. “Congratulations on your baby! Feyre asked me to bring her the flowers, so she could congratulate you guys properly.” Rhys smile was dazzling.

Tamlin blinked dumbly at the bouquet and then at the two of them. “I’m afraid, I don’t understand?”

Rhys frowned, as if confused, and looked to Feyre for confirmation. “That is  _ the _ Tamlin, right?”

Realizing what Rhys was going for, she nodded and rose on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Rhys jaw. “Yes, hon, that’s the right Tamlin!” she confirmed, using Lucien’s preferred term of endearment for Rhys. After all, she was currently in need of a pet name for the show they were putting on and she couldn’t call Rhys ‘kitten’ in front of Tamlin.

Turning to her former boss, she gave him a saccharine smile. “I wanted to congratulate you and Ianthe on your baby! I’m so happy for you!”

Befuddled, Tamlin stared at the bouquet. “Ianthe. Pregnant,” he stuttered. 

Feyre angled her head in faux concern. “Yeah! Didn’t she tell you? That’s why she excused herself so much. Her morning sickness is very bad. She must be showing soon!”

“And you think I am the father?”

Feyre blinked and shared a seemingly alarmed look with Rhys. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just thought… I mean, people said... ”

Tamlin appeared really flustered, raking a hand through his blond hair. “People, talk about it? Why didn’t she tell me?” By now, he was more talking to himself than them.

“I’m sorry if we misunderstood somehow,” Rhys said, sounding convincingly contrite. He held out the flowers to Tamlin again. “Would you mind handing these over to Ianthe though? As I understand, she and Feyre had a little falling out during that farewell party, and seeing Feyre might upset her  _ in her state _ ?” 

Tamlin took the flowers threw them a last blank stare. Then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way down the hallway, clearly shocked out of his mind.

“You know Rhys, that was positively evil,” Feyre remarked, eyes fixed on Tamlin’s retreating figure.

Rhys chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his arm still around her waist. “I told you, the fucker better back off and leave our girl alone.” On a more serious note, he added, “Lucien told me, how distressed you were over him visiting you almost daily, although you changed departments.”

“Luce was exaggerating,” Feyre shook her head, but she was smiling. “You think, he’ll back off now?” 

It sounded so hopeful, it made her cringe. She hadn’t realized just how much Tamlin’s advances had actually bothered her.

Rhys redarged her seriously. “He better does. Else, I might need to come up with a slightly more diabolical approach.”

Feyre giggled and squeezed Rhys around the middle. Now rid of the flowers, he finally gave her a proper hug. 

“Wanna see my office?” Feyre asked. “Although, there is honestly not much to see.” She pulled him eagerly inside and led him to her desk. 

Rhys let his eyes wander around the space and then took a closer look at the other three desks. “You share the office?”

“Yeah” Feyre shrugged. “Although they're not here all the time. Mr. Dawning is pretty relaxed about when we show up, he only insists that we put our hours in. Forcing people to work against their internal clock staunches their creativity, he said. I'm usually the only one in the morning, the others come in late and stay late. Actually, I've only met two of my colleagues so far. The other one, Amren, prefers to work from home or late at night.”

Rhys ran a hand over her desk, leaving smears on the glass. He rubbed them away with the hem of his suit jacket. “Thesan’s always been a sensible man.”

Feyre perked up. “You know him?”

Rhys gave her a little smile. “I used to work at this company before the merger. I told you, I met Lucien during negotiations, right? Most of the design team here belonged to the company I was working at before. So I know quite a few of them.”

“How come Tamlin doesn’t know you then?”

Rhysand shrugged. “I don’t know. He was actually supposed to be the one sitting in the negotiation talks, not Lucien. Lucien was his assistant at that time and had to fill in,  because the tool didn’t show up.” Rhysand shrugged again, this time with an nostalgic smile. “Lucky for me. Earned myself a boyfriend on top of an offer for a management position here at Prythian.”

“Why did you quit then?” Feyre asked, suddenly very curious. “Actually, what is your job? You're always home when I come over. And the way you talk about it sounds shady.”

Rhys laughed and sat down on her desk, pulling her close, so Feyre was standing between his legs. “Ever heard of Velaris Inc.?”

“Duh! Who doesn't! It's the biggest start-up turned successful business ever and it's still so new! Some guy started it about 3 years back and - “ Feyre's eyes grew wide and she looked at Rhys speculatively. “Don't tell me - !”

He gave her one of his usual smirks. “Some guy, huh? I would've gone for  _ most handsome guy,  _ or _ most stunning guy,  _ but yeah. I'm some guy.”

“Wow!” Feyre was blown away. “So you're telling me, I'm dating one of the most successful and influential entrepreneurs within the last decade?

Rhys chuckled. “The press likes to exaggerate, but if you want to phrase it like that…” He gave her a searching look. “Does that shock you? Make you feel uncomfortable? Intimidate you?”

Feyre searched her feelings for a moment. Sure, she was surprised and maybe a bit awed, but that was it. Rhys was still Rhys. What did it matter if he was a successful business owner and rumoured to be filthy rich? He still couldn't get up in the morning if his life depended on it and was a sappy romantic, who got teary eyed over movies like Notting Hill.

“Well, I had actually suspected you were a mob boss or the head of a large crime syndicate, so I’m actually almost disappointed,” Feyre said with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. But she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips.

Laughing, Rhys hugged her closer. “The syndicate is just a hobby, I swear!”

Feyre was just about to shoot back a funny reply, when her colleague Tarquin walked in, startling at the sight of Rhys on her desk and Feyre standing between his legs, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulder. Out of reflex, Feyre tried to step away from Rhys, like she would've done with Lucien, but he held her close.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” Tarquin was clearly embarrassed and remained standing in the doorway.

“No, I’m sorry. This is your office too,” Feyre said hurriedly. “Uhm… Rhys, this is Tarquin Summers, my colleague. Tarquin, this is -”

“Rhysand Nash!” Tarquin’s face lit up in recognition. 

Rhysand finally released Feyre and stood up, walking over to Tarquin and, to Feyre’s surprise, hugged him, patting him on the back.

“Good to see you again, Tarquin!”

They laughed together and exchanged some pleasantries. 

Feyre was perplexed. “You know each other?”

“As I said, most of the design team here is from my former company,” Rhys declared turning to Feyre, but keeping an arm cordially wrapped around Tarquin’s shoulder. “We used to hang together around after work. Young Tarquin here also knows how to throw a mean party.”

Tarquin gave a little embarrassed laugh. “It was only one party and you couldn’t have noticed how it was, because you kept talking with my cousin Cresseida in the corner all night!”

“Do I hear jealousy there, Tarquin? Your cousin is pretty, but between the two of you, you’re the prettier!” Rhys claimed with a smirk.

Tarquin glowed with happy embarrassment over the compliment, but the his eyes flitted over to Feyre. 

“Uhm, so, if I may ask, the two of you...?” he inquired shyly.

“We’re in a relationship,” Rhys said the same time Feyre said, “We’re dating!”

Rhys slightly raised his eyebrow at Feyre, who blushed a bit.  _ Relationship _ indicated more than just  _ dating _ , didn’t it? Would he call himself his boyfriend in front of Tarquin too? Why though? It was not like they had to proof anything to Tarquin or make him back off.

“Oh!” Strangely, Tarquin looked somewhat disappointed. “Well, I think I left my… something… behind earlier, so I need to go get it. Great meeting you again, Nash!” With a last look to Feyre and a pat to Rhys back, he quickly made his exit. 

“Feyre darling, really!” Rhys looked after a departing Tarquin and shook his head with a little rueful smile.

She blinked in surprise, taken aback. “What?”

“Turning heads left and right wherever you go!” he purred and came back over to her. 

“What do you mean?”

Rhys cocked his head at her. “Lucien, Tamlin, Tarquin… How many other people in this company are actually in love with you, hm?” 

“Rhys, what are you talking about?”

Rhys chuckled softly and pressed his lips to her forehead. “No wonder Lucien was so antsy about keeping you close. You, Feyre Archeron, are a heartbreaker! And you don’t even seem to realize it.”

So Rhys  _ had _ tried to mark his territory in front of Tarquin. Feyre would be lying if wasn't disappointed. For a silly second, she had thought, he may be had been serious about the relationship thing.

“If Tarquin’s in love with anyone, it’s you. Didn’t you just flirt with him?” 

“We were just joking. Tarquin is not interested in me,” Rhys assured her, looking down at Feyre with a little frown.

“But you are? Interested in him, I mean?” Feyre hated how jealous she sounded. But who could blame him. Tarquin was pretty handsome. And he was nice and incredibly sweet. Someone, who’d be easy to love. Not as complicated and messed up as her.

“I’m not interested in anyone else. Not while I’m with you and Lucien,” Rhys declared softy, running his knuckles over her cheek in a tender gesture. “You don’t need to worry about me seeking out Tarquin or someone else.”

Feyre swallowed and nodded, biting her lips. She wanted to believe him, but as confident as she was when it was them or the three of them together, she was really insecure when they were apart. What was Feyre to Lucien and Rhysand?

“Hey!” Rhys put a knuckle under her chin and made her look up. He searched her face. “Feyre, I’m in love with you, you know that, right?” 

Feyre searched his face, that spoke of nothing but plain affection, and gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah, I know. I’m in love with you too,” she sighed. 

Rhys inhaled sharply, and then a broad, happy smile overtook his features. “Feyre!”

“What?”

Rhys cupped her face with one hand and pressed the softest kiss imaginable to her lips. “You just said, you’re in love with me,” he whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. “That was the first time!”

Feyre’s breath caught and then she turned beet red. It was indeed. The confession had just kind off slipped out. “I thought, you knew,” she said shyly, dropping her gaze.

Rhys response was one of his soul-scorching kisses. Folding her into his arms gently, one hand firmly pressed against the small of her back while the other still cupped her face, he kissed the hell out of her. And Feyre kind of wished that Tamlin or Tarquin or whoever passed right this very moment. 

Because right now, they were in love and he was hers and it wouldn’t get any more obvious than this.

Level 2 of the girlfriend game: cleared?


	20. Chapter 20

“Oh hello there!”

Feyre cringed hearing Ianthe’s fake soprano and acknowledged the other woman who had just stepped into the bathroom with a curt nod, not bothering with a verbal response. Instead, she reached for some soap and continued to wash her hands. Really, this damn company didn’t seem to be big enough to escape her old colleagues, no matter the design department was situated on a different floor than the project department.

Ianthe stepped next to her on the sinks and placed a make-up purse on the counter, rummaging for something inside of it.

“Say Feyre,” she began, putting on some tinted gloss. “How’s Lucien?”

Feyre rinsed and remained silent. Ianthe eyed her through the mirror, her pretty face distorted by a haughty, malicious smile.

“You see, I have a hard time contacting him since he left,” she tried again.

“Maybe, he doesn’t want you to contact him?” Feyre asked cooly and reached for the paper towels. “Also, aren’t you with Tamlin now? I heard he proposed.”

As a direct result of Rhys’ little ploy to get Tamlin away from her, it seemed the tool must’ve straight walked to Ianthe and proposed to her. Actually, Feyre was surprised to find Ianthe still working at Prythian. Surely, it was highly immoral to have one’s pregnant fiancé work as one’s assistant? Feyre wondered how Tamlin had managed to sell this story to the higher-ups and HR.

Ianthe puckered her lips into one of her ridiculous pouts, checking out her gloss in the mirror. “Tamlin was more interesting when he was chasing after you. Now he’s kinda boring. Lucien on the other hand -”

“What the fuck is your problem Ianthe?” Feyre asked hotly.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That woman had the audacity to inquire after Lucien and admit, she was not interested in the man whose proposal she had accepted?

Ianthe angled her head and simply smiled. Feyre was disgusted.

“Stay away from Lucien!” Feyre snarled. “He’s not interested. He told you. Repeatedly. He _quit_ because of you. And you have Tamlin. Be happy with what you got. After all, you’re pregnant with his baby, aren’t you?”

“Oh that!” Ianthe flicked her hair back over her shoulder and smacked her lips together, checking out her gloss again in the mirror. “I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not. You told me, you’re pregnant!”

“Well, I thought I was. Turns out, I’m not.”

Feyre wasn’t even sure she was breathing anymore.

“So all this time when you excused yourself from work, claiming your morning sickness was acting up, you were faking it?” Feyre was so angry, she began shaking.

Ianthe didn't look remorseful at all. “I felt really sick that time,” she claimed haughtily, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Oh how convenient you only ever felt sick, when you actually had to work for once,” Feyre spat.

Ianthe merely pouted and scowled, as if Feyre was being unfair. Trembling with rage, Feyre gathered her purse and made to walk out.

“So about Lucien -”

Quicker than an asp, Feyre whirled around and struck the mirror next to Ianthe’s face with her flat hand. The glass vibrated violently under the impact and Ianthe gave a little surprised shriek, looking at Feyre with wide, frightened, green eyes.

“You stay away from Lucien or me! If I hear you coming after him, I'll personally head over to HR and tell them a few things that might be of interest to them. About you faking your pregnancy maybe. Does Tamlin now, you’re not pregnant? Maybe I'll even have a little chat with him? He might not have believed Lucien, but he will believe me!”

Feyre inched even closer to the other woman, leaning menacingly close, causing Ianthe to lean back. _Good!_ She should fear her.

“If I ever see you again, Ianthe, I might not miss next time.” She tapped her nails against the glass for emphasis. “Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Ianthe blanched visibly and then hurriedly made her exit, even forgetting her make-up bag. Feyre peeled her hand from the mirror. Her palm was red and stinging, but the pain felt welcome. Like a badge, she had earned.

Next time, she swore to herself, it would be Ianthe's cheek that was this red. Because when it came to her lovers being threatened, the gloves were off.

* * *

“I mean, can you believe this?” Feyre leaned against the shopping cart and watched Lucien put in some eggplants while frowning at his shopping list. “She goes around telling everybody she's pregnant just to get out of work!” Feyre huffed in indignation.

Several hours after her encounter with Ianthe, Feyre was still fairly worked up. It was the end of her work day and she was currently accompanying Lucien for some quick shopping before dinner at the guys’ place.

Lucien shook his head. “That woman has such a distorted perception, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd willed herself pregnant by sheer force alone. Who knows if she even slept with Tamlin!”

Feyre huffed another breath and scowled at the shopping cart. “She said, she tried to contact you?”

Lucien’s lips curled in disgust. “Yeah. I had to block her number. She called quite a few times on my personal cell. And she's sending emails, but they're going right to the trash bin. I have no idea, how she got my personal contact info.”

“Probably seduced someone from HR.” Feyre regarded Lucien pensively. “Are you keeping record of how often she calls or writes?”

“No, why?”

“You should gather evidence in case you want to go to the police. In fact, it might be useful for me, if she steps out of line again.”

Feyre tapped a finger against her lip, deep in thought. If she didn't stop, Feyre could sneak the emails to Tamlin as proof how Ianthe was still pursuing Lucien. Maybe Lucien could get her to confess the whole baby thing had been a lie, and then Feyre had written proof, just in case?

“You and Rhys both are evil, scheming masterminds. He said something similar just yesterday. So ruthless!” Lucien shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips as he pushed the cart forward.

Feyre gave him a positively wicked grin. “That's why you love us so much!”

The words were out before she had completely realized what she had said. It had been a slip of the tongue, a conventionalized phrase she hadn't thought much about, until she had spoken it.

Feyre went rigid with shock and mortification, the grin faltering on her face. But Lucien threw whatever he had just picked from the shelf into the cart and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer.

“Aye, that's true!” he said with a soft smile, his little fang peeking out.

Feyre blushed and hastily buried her face in his chest. Lucien gave a surprised laugh and tried to pry her away from him, but she stubbornly hid her face.

“Aw, come on. Let me see your face, love! You never blush for me!” he pleaded amused.

“Fuck off, Vanserra!” she snarled, earning another laugh from Lucien.

Giving up his attempt to pry her off, he chose to hug her even closer instead, nuzzling her head with his nose.

“I'll never fuck off, Archeron, you should know that by now. I'm very hard to get rid of.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Feyre.”

The air was pressed from her lungs and she drew back, too shocked to care about whether Lucien saw her flushed face or not. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, completely earnest.

A fizzing sensation bloomed in her chest, spreading through her veins and spreading over her skin. These were no butterflies; it felt like she was submerged in soda, but from the inside out. Thousands of tiny bubbles burst in and around her.

“Lucien.” That was all she managed to say, while the fierce, bubbling joy coursed through her.

He smiled. “That's my name, yes.”

Feyre surged up and caught his lips with hers. “Lucien, I - “

“Feyre?”

Both Feyre and Lucien turned their heads and quickly pulled apart out of habit. But it wasn't one of their former colleagues who had caught them kissing in the supermarket. It was worse. Cassian was standing in the aisle, holding a shopping basket and looking very perplexed.

“Uhg, hi Cass!”

Feyre didn't know what else to say. There was no way her friend hadn't seen them just now. Cassian looked from Feyre to Lucien and slowly, a shit-eating grin was forming on his face.

“Making out in aisle number 4, huh? You take shopping to a whole new level, Fey!”

Groaning, Feyre buried her head in her hands. Why was the universe hating her? What had she ever done?

Surprisingly, Lucien returned Cassian's grin. “Hey! I'm Lucien.” He extended his hand for Cassian to shake. “Sorry for last time. I was a bit…”

“Jealous?” Cassian suggested, clutching Lucien's hand and shaking it.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Lucien admitted with an edged smile.

Cassian laughed and tugged Lucien into a friendly hug, patting him on the back. _Guys_. Feyre shook her head in disbelief.

“So he's the reason we don't see you around as much anymore, huh? Must be some awesome hate sex, Fey!”

“Oh for fucks sake, won't you shut up?” Feyre said with another groan.

Lucien merely blinked in confusion. Cassian looked like he enjoyed himself way too much, his hazel eyes bright with mirth.

“Luce, I've told you about him before, but this is my friend Cassian. Cass, this is Lucien, my --”

Feyre froze. How should she introduce him? She couldn't say he was her boyfriend, right? A little awkward pause ensued.

“We’re dating” Lucien finally declared.

Feyre’s stomach sank. She had kind of hoped, Lucien would claim to be her boyfriend like Rhys had. Then at least she could've assumed she might be their girlfriend. But Lucien had just made painfully clear she wasn't.

“Ooooooh!” Cassian's grin was so wide, Feyre hoped he’d split a lip and suffere endlessly. “You never told us, Feyfey! Nesta will be so pissed at you!”

“We haven't been dating that long,” Feyre mumbled defensively, turning around to push the cart forward. Lucien and Cassian followed, talking amicably behind her.

She had told neither of her sisters she was currently dating someone. Because, how could she even begin to explain that she was dating a couple? Nesta wouldn't understand. No, she would most likely rip her lovers’ heads off. And Elain? She would be so shocked, she might never look at her again.

Feyre knew she would have to tell her sisters eventually, especially if their _dodgy little mess_ turned out to be a long-term relationship like she was actually hoping it would. Only, maybe she wanted to know where she and the guys stood first? A determination of their relationship status seemed inevitable.

“Feyre wait, we still need minced meat!” Lucien called after her when she charged straight towards the cash register. She came to a halt and turned.

“Anything else we need?” she asked plastering on a bright, fake smile. Lucien shook his head. “Well, why don’t you get the meat then and I’ll wait here?”

Lucien gave her a searching look, frowning over the smile he surely knew was fake. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who looked equally bewildered, and he understood. She wanted to get rid of him, so she could get rid of Cassian. “Yeah, alright. Nice meeting you Cassian!”

“Yeah, same! Listen, we should meet up sometime! Then you can tell me, how this happened to be,” Cassian proposed with a grin.

“Gladly!” Lucien answered.

He shot Feyre a hard look and then set off towards the meat section. By the time he came back, Feyre had managed to get rid of Cassian, but not without having to promise him, she’d meet with him soon and spill the beans on how she ended up dating the colleague she had claimed she hated.

“Cassian seems nice,” Lucien commented, while they checked out and rolled the cart towards his car.

“He is,” Feyre answered in a clipped manner. She was already dreading where this conversation was going. And as usual when Feyre was feeling anxious and insecure, she turned bitchy.

Lucien gave her a sideways glance. “We should meet with him and your sister sometime.”

“Sure, let’s invite him over to dinner,” Feyre scoffed. “And then we’ll make proper introductions. ‘Hey Nesta, this is Lucien. I’m dating him. And this is Lucien’s boyfriend Rhys. I’m dating him, too.’ Wouldn’t that make a fun dinner?”

Feyre was stomping towards Lucien’s car, too agitated for her own good. They came to a stop when they reached the car and Lucien unlocked the trunk and opened it, but he didn’t move beyond that. Instead, he looked at her, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

“Pray tell, how did you think this would go Feyre? Only introduce one of us and keep the other hidden? Or did you plan to simply never introduce us to your family?” A cruel, cold smile bloomed on his lips when she averted her eyes and didn’t respond. “Wow! I see. I must say, that hurts.”

Shame was turning her stomach sour. “I didn’t even know what Rhys’ job was until a few weeks ago. And how about you, Lucien? I don’t know your family either. How did you plan to introduce me to them?” Feyre shot back.

Lucien stayed silent and began packing their groceries away. Feyre helped, the icy silence between them growing uncomfortably. Only after they had packed everything and Lucien had closed the trunk, did he turn back to her.

“I don’t have a family, or at least, I don’t consider them as such. My father disowned me, when I chose to propose to a woman he regarded as belonging to an ‘inferior race’, just because she was colored. He briefly talked to me again, when she died in a car crash that was entirely my fault. In comparison, I got away easy, don't you think?” Lucien pointed to his scar and prosthetic eye. “But then he and my brothers explicitly told me, they never want to see me again, when they found out I am bisexual and living together with a man.”

Feyre froze on the spot. _He has many scars and not only those that show_ _._ Rhys had warned her about that before.

“Lucien,” she exclaimed weakly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I never told you,” was all he said.

They stood on the parking lot, staring at each other, neither of them moving. Feyre’s heart was bleeding for him, but she knew, Lucien probably didn’t want her pity. Neither did he seemed inclined to let her touch him. He was distanced, cold. But he was still there, waiting for something - for her.

“I don’t have the best relationship with my sisters,” Feyre confessed. He let her see his scars; it was time she laid bare hers. “We are slowly getting better, but when we were younger, we didn’t really get along. I don’t know how to break it to them that my love life is not exactly…”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Normal?” he supplied.

She shot him a dark look and he laughed humorlessly and pushed back his hair from his face with one hand. “Well it isn’t, right? Considered normal to be with two people at the same time, I mean,” he scoffed, staring off in the distance, his hand still in his hair. His face took on a forlorn look. “Then again, I’ve never been normal.”

Something folded painfully in her chest and Feyre couldn’t take it any longer. She threw her hands around his middle and hugged herself to his chest. “I love you,” she whispered desperately. “I don’t care if what we have is not normal.”

Lucien remained stiff in her arms for long enough that she felt the need to look up. Lucien eyes were trained on her, but his gaze was turned inwards. Tentatively, she put a hand on his scarred cheek. He flinched slightly when her thumb brushed over the raised scar tissue.

“I will tell them Luce. I just need a bit more time to figure this out.” To figure their relationship out.

Lucien blinked and the light crept back into his eyes when he focused on her again. And then, agonizingly slow, Lucien’s head dipped down, until his forehead bumped against hers. They remained standing like this in silence for a few minutes.

“Let’s go home, my love,” Lucien said eventually and Feyre knew, she was forgiven.

If Rhys wondered about them behaving oddly that night, he didn’t comment on it. While he prepared the moussaka for dinner, Lucien and Feyre sat on the couch, embracing each other while talking softly, whispering their secrets and fears to each other, holding onto the other as if they were afraid they would vanish. When Rhys came to tell them dinner was ready, they pulled him down on the couch between them and clung to him. Rhys laughed softly and gave out little kisses, peppering them on their hair and faces as they held him.

And when Feyre locked eyes with Lucien over Rhys’ shoulders, he gave her a soft smile and mouthed _I love you both_ to her. She released a shuddering breath and burrowed her face in Rhys’ neck, weak-kneed with relief.

After that, everything was normal again - as far as anything considering their relationship would ever considered normal.

Level 2 of the girlfriend game: Setback. Try again!

 


	21. Chapter 21

Having met Cassian while she was out shopping with Lucien, Feyre really shouldn’t have been surprised when she⸺not even 2 weeks later⸺ran into her sister while with Rhys.

Well, to be fair, there was hardly a time when Feyre was without one or the other or both lately. Especially, because they seemed to have developed some needy tendencies that caused them to whine about missing her when she didn’t come over and spend the evening at their flat for once. To ensure she couldn’t ‘escape’ them, they had started to pick her up from work.

Not that Feyre minded. She was still in hot pursuit of her goal to try make herself irreplaceable to them and she felt properly spoiled by them picking her up and driving her to their place, where usually a nice dinner waited for her. Not to mention lots of kisses, cuddles and sex.

So while Feyre had greeted a waiting Rhys on the curb outside her company on a Tuesday afternoon after work, her sister Nesta had somehow materialized next to them.

Feyre swore inwardly and attempted to hide her panic at the sudden encounter with a huge fake smile. Cassian must’ve boasted at home about meeting Lucien and Nesta, impatient because Feyre still hadn’t said anything to her sisters about dating someone, had chosen to ambush her after work.

“Nesta! What a coincidence!” Feyre’s voice was at least an octave higher than usual. She hastily cleared her throat. “I don’t think, you two have met yet? This is Rhysand.”

Turning to Rhys, she added. “My sister Nesta.”

Nesta seized up Rhys, her face impassive like usual, except for her piercing glare. Lesser men would have started running had she looked at them like that, but Rhys merely smiled back politely.

“Your boyfriend?” Nesta asked Feyre, never taking her eyes off Rhys.

“No,” Feyre said, trying not to look at Rhysand. “But we’re dating.”

This earned her a frown from both Rhys and Nesta. Flustered, Feyre tugged at Rhys arm. “Actually, we’re in a kind of hurry Nesta. I’ll call you later?”

Without waiting for her sister’s reply, Feyre dragged Rhys down the street towards his car. Feyre sighed heavily in relief once she had slipped into the seat and closed the door behind her. They gotten lucky to get away with just this.

Thankfully, Rhys didn’t comment on the whole encounter either, but he was suspiciously quiet and still frowning while he buckled up and pulled into traffic.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Rhys asked suddenly while they waited in front of a traffic light a few minutes later.

Confused, Feyre turned to him. “No! Why would you ask that?”

The light turned green and Rhys accelerated and shifted gears before he spoke again. “You said, I’m not your boyfriend.”

Feyre didn’t understand. “Well, you aren’t?”

Rhys almost crashed into the car in front when it suddenly stopped. Cursing viciously, Rhys braked hard and then ran a hand through his hair, blowing out his breath in one great huff.

“Since when?”

“Come again?”

Feyre was still shocked by the almost accident, rubbing her collarbone where the seat belt had dug deep into her chest.

“Since when am I not your boyfriend?”

He turned to her and Feyre balked at the angry glare he directed her way. The only time she’d seen him this angry was when Lucien had brought her home that first time and Rhys had been pissed at Lucien for leaving her in the dark about him.

“Rhys, why are you so angry?” she asked in a small voice.

He let out a humorless laugh and didn’t respond, but continued driving. He didn’t address her again for the whole ride home and Feyre didn’t dare speak to him either. She didn’t understand what she had done. He couldn’t be angry about her not introducing him as her boyfriend, right?

Rhys parked the car and got out, slamming the door harder than usual. Feyre winced. He was not only angry, he was livid!

“Rhys, please talk to me! What did I do wrong?”

Feyre hastily got out of the car and followed after him. He didn’t even bother to check, whether or not she had followed. The elevator ride up was spent in icy silence. Feyre tried once to touch his arm, but he glared at her, causing her to flinch and took her hand away. When they reached the apartment, Rhys wordlessly unlocked the front door and went inside, again not waiting for her.

Helplessly, Feyre lingered in the open doorway. Rhys clearly didn’t want to be near her right now. Maybe, she should just go home? But she needed to know, where she had gone wrong.

She found him in the kitchen, taking a beer out of the fridge. He popped the lid off right there and took a deep drag.

“I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I did wrong,” she said weakly. She was terrified of him. What if she had just ruined everything between them?

“Cauldron, Feyre!” Rhys fisted his hair and sighed in frustration. “Really?”

Attracted by the noise they’d made, Lucien came sauntering into the kitchen with a bright smile. It instantly faltered when he took in the mood. He shot Feyre a bewildered look.

“What happened. Are you fighting?”

Rhys turned to Lucien. “I really don’t know how often I have to explain to our girlfriend she’s not a random hookup. Would you mind helping me out here?” he snarled.

Lucien took a step back, surprised by Rhys’ mood. At least, she wasn’t the only one who was feeling slightly intimidated. And then the penny dropped.

“Just a second. Did you say _girlfriend_?”

Rhys finally turned towards her. His brows almost touched with how strongly they were knitted together.

“Yes. You are our girlfriend. Or at least I thought so. But apparently, Lucien and I have been wrong about that. I thought we had something, Feyre. But if you’re not interested in a serious relationship, you should have told us from the beginning. Or at least, when I confessed that I had fallen for you! Or when Luce did.”

Feyre flinched as if he had struck her. But his words also kindled her temper.

“I’m serious about this⸺us! I _want_ to be your girlfriend! Desperately so. I love you, you idiot. Both of you!” she snarled back.

Rhys looked at her, open-mouthed. As did Lucien.

With burning cheeks, she stared them down. “Do you have any idea how insecure I’ve been these last months, because I had no clue if I’m just your latest plaything? I’m constantly afraid you’ll ditch me, once you grow bored of me!”

“Why would you think that?” Lucien asked incredulously. “I just told you 2 weeks ago that I love you. You think I say that to someone I'm just hooking up with?”

“And not 2 minutes later you told Cassian, we were dating. Not in a relationship, or introducing yourself as my boyfriend, but dating. Like it’s something casual!” she seethed.

Lucien furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well, actually, you didn’t introduce me as your boyfriend either. You just clammed up and I had to say something. I was under the impression that you didn’t want him to know we’re in a serious relationship.”

Feyre’s jaw almost hit the floor. “Are you kidding me?”

“Are _you_ kidding _me_?” Rhys interrupted their sparring match. “So this whole time, you have thought we were not serious about you?” He put his beer on the counter and ran a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping like he was suddenly very tired. “How did we even get here?”

Feyre’s anger dissipated at seeing him like this. Shooting Lucien a troubled glance, she tentatively walked over to Rhys. He didn’t appear as angry anymore, but she was still hesitant to touch him. She stopped in front of him.

“I’m sorry I misunderstood. I didn’t know, that’s why I told Nesta you weren’t my boyfriend. It’s not because I’m ashamed to be with you and Lucien. I really, really want to be your girlfriend.”

He wordlessly gathered her into his arms and held her tight. “You already are, you little idiot. You’ve been for a while. I love you.”

Tears suddenly welled up and Feyre buried her face in his shoulder, letting them flow freely. Crying in his arms reminded her so much of when she learned about his relationship with Lucien, only this time she cried from happiness, not sorrow. A heavy, warm weight pressed against her back when Lucien joined their hug, planting a little kiss at the back of her neck.

“How could you even think, we’re not serious about you? We’re crazy about you.” he added softly.

Feyre sobbed and turned around, hugging Lucien and pressing her face into his chest, while the guys⸺ _her boyfriends_ ⸺gently patted and stroked her hair, hugging her between them and dropping kisses onto her head. They didn't let go, before she stopped crying and not for a long time afterwards either.

* * *

 

It had taken a long while and a stiff drink for all of them to calm down completely. Eventually, they had moved to the living room, where they now sat on the couch and determined the rules of their relationship once and for all. For Feyre, this involved the question about whether their relationship was an open one or not specifically, seeing that, originally, Lucien and Rhys’ relationship had been.

“Would you really be okay with me hooking up with anyone who isn’t you or Rhys?” Feyre set down her empty tumbler and turned to Lucien. “I mean, you reacted badly enough, when you thought I had a date with Cassian.”

Lucien frowned, staring off in the distance while he contemplated her question.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” he confessed after a while. “I was jealous that time, because I thought, he could have you, when I couldn’t. Now that you’re my girlfriend and I know you like me back, I don’t feel like I’m losing you to some random dude anymore. Because at the end of the day, it’s me and Rhys you’ll come back home to.”

“So, if I decide to have sex with Tamlin in the copy room once or twice, you’d be fine with it?” she asked jokingly.

“No!” was Lucien’s immediate answer. “Anyone, but him!”.

Feyre felt a smile tugging at her lips. Leaning back into Rhys’ chest, who immediately banded his arm across her chest and pressed a kiss into her hair, she asked, “So it would be fine, if you don’t know him? Like, if I met a random dude while out with friends at some bar and decide to take him back home to⸺”

“No!” Lucien’s face was growing stormy.

Feyre turned her head to glance at Rhys behind her. “Is it only me, or does he sound jealous?”

Rhys chuckled and gave her a little nose kiss that made her giggle. “Terribly jealous. Can’t blame him though. Who wouldn’t want you for themselves?”

Feyre blushed and snuggled closer into Rhys’ arms, before looking back to Lucien. “So, no office hookups and no random bar hookups. Who am I allowed to hook up with then?”

Lucien looked, like he was about to spew fire. “You know what? No hookups! For neither of us. It’s the three of us and nobody else!” he declared adamantly.

Feyre raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I certainly don’t have a problem with that. I’ve only ever been in monogamous relationships to begin with. And the two of you are honestly a lot to handle. But are you two okay with that?”

“Absolutely!” Lucien replied instantly. “You and Rhys are all I need!”

Feyre turned around to Rhys again. “And you? Are you okay with just us?”

Rhys snorted and used the opportunity of Feyre’s face being turned towards him to plant a soft kiss onto her lips. “If I’m okay with that? Hell yeah. ‘Just you’, are you kidding me? I’m a lucky bastard for being allowed to have both of you.”

They exchanged a loving smile and then Rhys turned to Lucien, holding out an arm for him. Lucien scooted closer to them and Rhys pulled him even closer, kissing him too.

“And now that we’re already talking about this: I hate to break it to you, babe, but I’ve never actually been with anyone while being with you. Our darling Feyre here being the exception, of course,” Rhys announced matter-of-factly.

Lucien’s jaw unhinged and almost fell all the way to the floor. Feyre looked between her boyfriends, equally surprised and concerned.

“But, wait…what?” Lucien stammered. “But it’s you who said, we should try an open relationship.”

“I know. But when we started dating, you were still seeing other people occasionally, so I thought, if I ever wanted to call you my boyfriend, I better propose an open relationship. I was afraid that if I asked you to be exclusive, you’d run for the hills.”

Lucien gaped at Rhys. “I only saw other people, because I didn’t think you were serious about me in the beginning. And when you proposed an open relationship…” He buried his face in his hands with a groan. “I thought it was the only way I could have you, too. I been wondering, why you never mentioned anyone, or why you always came home at night, but I just thought, you were being discreet.”

Rhys let out a hollow laugh. “No, I just never fucked anyone besides you. Well, I did sleep with Feyre, but that’s a different issue.”

Lucien raised his head, his face weirdly blank. “Me neither,” he confessed. “Only Feyre!”

Feyre sat up and turned to Rhys. He looked shocked at Lucien’s admission. And then a radiant smile overtook his whole face. “Lucien,” he whispered. Lucien gazed back fondly at Rhys, his heart in his eyes.

“Wait,” Feyre said, interrupting the romcom that was playing out right in front of her. “So you’re telling me, the two of you have technically been in an open relationship without actually wanting an open relationship, just because you were insecure about each other’s feelings?” Turning to Lucien, she added, “and you have tormented me for months with your little games, just because you wouldn’t confess to liking me?”

Lucien had the good grace to look ashamed.

“You know what, Luce? I think you need to learn to tell people what you want.” Feyre frowned and then impatiently shook her head. “Scratch that, we all need to.”

Lucien nodded and Rhys nuzzled the back of Feyre’s hair with his nose.

“You’re right, darling. We all need to be more honest and upfront with each other. So I’ll start right now: I want the two of you to be happy, so I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

Feyre inhaled deeply, steeling herself. “I’m in love with the both of you. I love you. And I want this relationship to work, preferably for a very long time!”

Lucien leaned in over Feyre’s shoulder and gave Rhys a kiss. Before pulling back completely, he gave one to Feyre, too.

“I want the two of you naked in bed, preferably tied up, in about,” Lucien glanced at his wristwatch, “5 minutes.”

“Oh?” Rhys chuckled.

His broad hands slowly slid over Feyre’s torso, pulling her back against his chest again and pausing only to softly squeeze her boobs, before he started slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Feyre squirmed slightly, but kept her eyes trained on Lucien, who carefully observed the course of Rhys nimble fingers. When they unbuttoned her jeans and slipped inside, Lucien licked his lips and raised his gaze to Feyre’s, who gave him a lazy smile and then gasped, because Rhys had just gently eased a finger inside of her.

With his free hand, Rhys motioned for Lucien to take off Feyre’s jeans and then he undid the clasp of her bra.

“Why bother with the bed, babe?”

Level 2 of the girlfriend game: Cleared!


	22. Chapter 22

“Here.”

Feyre held out a mug of coffee for Lucien, who sat at the breakfast bar. Since she hovered near the coffee pot as long as her time allowed whenever she slept over, religiously downing at least 2 cups of the bitter brew before she went off to work, giving out coffee had somehow become Feyre’s job.

“Thanks, girlfriend!” Lucien said with a wink and a sharp grin.

Feyre gave him a warning scowl and Lucien quickly hid his grin behind his mug, sipping the scalding liquid carefully. Rhys gave a little chuckle and came over to them with a pan full of bacon and eggs. He put the sizzling pan in the middle of the bar and then treated himself to the mug Feyre had fixed for him. Wrapping his free hand around her waist, he pulled her against his side and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Thanks for the coffee, girlfriend,” he purred.

Feyre rolled her eyes and groaned in exasperation. “Okay, I get it. I’m your girlfriend. I actually got it yesterday. No need for you two to remind me like literally every damn 30 seconds.”

Lucien and Rhys exchanged a sly grin. “Just making sure you don’t forget, darling,” the latter said and slid behind her, his hand skimming from her hip over her stomach and pulling her a bit closer against him so her back was against his chest.

“I told you, I get it!” Feyre repeated and tried to free herself from his hold, but Rhys was frighteningly strong. His arm felt like solid steel. “Rhys, let go! I want to eat breakfast,” she huffed in annoyance, shooting an alarmed look at the pan that Lucien served himself handsomely from. If she didn’t stake her claims, the damn fox would eat all the eggs.

But instead of letting go, Rhys put down his coffee mug and wrapped his other arm around her, effectively caging Feyre in his arms. “You sure you got it? Lucien, you think our girlfriend got it?”

Lucien’s grin turned even wider, pulling at his scar, before he served himself _another_ egg. “Oh, I don’t know. Does she?”

“She hasn’t called me _boyfriend_ yet,” Rhys remarked. Lucien nodded gravely. “Me neither!”

“Fine!” Feyre snarled, red-faced from trying to get out of Rhys’ hold. “Please let go of me, dear _boyfriend_ , before my other dear _boyfriend_ eats all the eggs!”

“Hmmm!” Lucien made a show of chewing his egg slowly, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking deeply. “I don’t know, hon. Did that sound convincing to you?”

“Nope! ”

And with that, Rhys pushed Feyre against the breakfast bar and started feeling her up.

“Rhys! What are you doing?!” Feyre squeaked in indignation when his hand slipped under her dress and between her legs.

“Making sure you understand that you’re my girlfriend and that I love you very much,” he drawled, while his other hand dove under her dress from the top, fondling her breast over her soft lace bralette.

“Stop! We can’t! I just took a shower!”

But Feyre’s attempts to escape Rhys advances were futile. He was just too strong. In her desperation, she turned to Lucien, for once glad for the occasional streak of jealousy that sometimes still seized him. But instead of answering her whimpered plea for help, he continued grinning and chewing, seemingly unaffected by his boyfriend sexually assaulting his girlfriend in front of him.

Feyre scowled hard at Lucien. Where was his damn jealousy when she needed it? She wanted to chew him out, demand he helped her, but when she opened her mouth, only a moan escaped, because Rhys had chosen right this very moment to roll her nipple through the lace of her bra and simultaneously press down on her clit over her panties.

Defeated, she collapsed onto the breakfast bar. “I surrender. Do as you like!” she cried in comical despair.

The boys laughed and Rhys finally released her, although not entirely. Just for the sake of it, he grabbed her hips and pulled her behind back against his groin. Feeling a well-known hardness press up against her compensated Feyre slightly for the attack. At least she was not the only one being worked up.

“I hate you Rhys!” Feyre pouted, still bend over. Just then, Lucien served himself to his _third_ egg. “And you I hate even more! Why are you only eating eggs? Have some sausage too!”

“Oh, I plan to,” he replied, looking pointedly at Rhys, who chuckled in delight and then pressed a kiss to Feyre’s shoulder before helping her get up.

“You should come work for me like Lucien, darling,” Rhys purred and gave her an apologetic peck on the lips. “Then you wouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave every time.”

Feyre sighed and slightly pushed him away, settling on a stool and eyeing the meager remains Lucien left for her in the pan. Seems like her breakfast would be sausage and only sausage. But then, Lucien slid his plate with the last egg over to her with a wink. Feyre sighed again.

“You guys have way too much fun teasing me,” she grumbled, but pulled the plate closer nonetheless.

“That’s true!” Rhys sauntered over to Lucien and stood between his legs, kissing him full on the mouth. Lucien smiled into the kiss and loosely clasped his hands behind Rhys’ back. They looked so cute and in love, Feyre had to smile despite her best efforts.

“And no, I can’t work for you, Rhys. If that’s how our workday would start, then I doubt we’ll get any work done!”

The guys chuckled and separated. “We do actually go to work outside the house, you know?” Rhys claimed.

Feyre served herself some sausage and shoot him a disbelieving stare. “Please! You’re practically always at home when I show up in the middle of the day!”

“Ah, yeah. Perks of being the boss!” he grinned. “But I’m on the road a lot with Lucien here, visiting potential clients.”

Feyre eyed them curiously. “To do what?”

It was Lucien who answered. “Looking at their business proposals, talking money, seeing, whether it’s a lucrative investment. Sometimes talking sense into some stubborn idiot.”

For some particular reason, he was looking at Feyre when he said that. She deliberately bit off the end of her sausage a bit more savagely than usual. Lucien swallowed and hugged Rhys a bit tighter.

Velaris Inc. was a startup company that’s sole purpose was investing in other startups, preferably local businesses and businesses, which produced in the country and didn’t outsource, providing jobs for locals. That much Feyre knew and had gathered from their conversations. But they offered not only financial support, but also helped teach and instruct the oftentimes overchallenged business owners, helping them work out solid, sustainable business plans and proper management. Rhys had started the business not even 3 years back and had already successfully helped over 50 businesses and companies turn around and become profitable.

The profit Rhys made from his shares was then again invested into other startups. This way, he had not only managed to amass a lot of shares in different local businesses and discovered and promoted new products, he had also established a network of local businesses under his protection, that now could fend off being bought-out by big chain stores.

Whenever Feyre walked through the little, cobbled streets of the old part of the city and looked at the multitude of little shops and stores, her heart swelled with pride over Rhys, and now Lucien too, helping preserve the individuality and diversity in their city. She’d rather have her coffee in a little, cozy coffee shop with mismatched chairs and mugs than another gleaming and stylish Starbucks.

“What would I even do, working for you?” Feyre suddenly threw in. “I mean, I’m not really good at talking or the business side of things. Like, even when I was on the project team of Prythian, Lucien handled the numbers and the project outline.”

“Don’t make yourself smaller than you are, love” Lucien countered. ”That project we worked on wouldn’t have been half as successful, if it hadn’t been for you! You might not have classical business background as Rhys and I do, but you’re intuitive, smart and creative. Unconventional even. It makes you see things I don’t.”

Feyre blushed over the compliment, but remained unconvinced.

“I actually really need someone to help with the design side of things,” Rhys mused, ruffling Lucien’s hair in thought. “Some of the businesses we’re currently working with are a bit… lacking. Bleak. Like their appearance is somewhat dull.”

Feyre’s professional interest was immediately awoken. “In what sense?”

Rhys blinked like a sleepwalker waking and turned to her with a shy smile. He must’ve spoken without really meaning to. “Business secret. Come work for me, and I’ll tell.”

Feyre snorted and returned to her breakfast. Lucien raised his gaze to Rhys, his face inquisitive, but Rhys shook his head and kissed him again.

“Thanks for the offer, but as I said, I don’t think I could work for you,” Feyre repeated around a mouthful of food. “And it’s not because of the nature of the work or my qualification,” she hurriedly said before Lucien could protest again, “but simply because of the fact that I’m your girlfriend. I wouldn’t work with Lucien, when we were dating, so I won’t work with the two of you, when I’m your girlfriend. It’s just… messy.” Not to mention how uncomfortable things would become if they ever broke up.

Feyre hadn’t really dared think about the future yet, not when she was just so overwhelmingly happy to find out they had considered her their girlfriend from the beginning, but she already began wondering how long a relationship like theirs could really go on. Annoyed with herself, she shook her head and shoveled the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, chewing vigorously. No, she wouldn’t think about that now!

Rhys slumped and dropped his head, his cheek resting on top of Lucien’s head. The two of them were making puppy eyes at her, having Feyre forget about the turn her thoughts had taken and roll her eyes again.

“Damn, we should have let her believe, she wasn’t our girlfriend,” Rhys complained.

“No, you should have offered her a job before you seduced her!” Lucien lamented. “Think about it: instead of asking her for that first date, you could’ve offered her a job. Feyre would’ve accepted just to spite me and you could still have seduced her afterwards! After all, she does love Office Sex Bingo.”

Rhys gasped and pulled away from Lucien, looking at him with eyes wide like saucers. “I never thought of that!”

Seemingly unaffected, Feyre slid from the bar stool and took her plate to the dishwasher. “I’m off. I’ll also never come back. It was nice knowing you. Bye! Send me my stuff?”

She was tackled the second she had closed the lid on the dishwasher and ended up sandwiched between her two boyfriends.

“What are you?” Lucien demanded to know with a little growl.

“Your girlfriend,” Feyre said with much regret.

“And what did you say you wanted yesterday?” Rhys implored.

“For you to fuck me harder?”

“No, before that!”

“For this relationship to work,” Feyre admitted with another eyeroll and a sigh.

“Preferably for a long time!” Rhys added.

“Yes, for some reason I did say that!”

“And not only a day later, you threaten us with breaking up?” Lucien cried in mock indignation. He shared a look with Rhys. “I’m afraid, we have no other choice then, hon. Our girlfriend must be punished!”

They tickled her, tormenting Feyre mercilessly by making good use of the knowledge of her weak spots, until she collapsed onto the ground, red-faced, sweating, and out of breath from laughing, begging them to stop.

“Will you behave now?” Rhys purred, kneeling on the floor beside her head, holding her wrists, while Lucien’s fingers were still menacingly poised over her ribcage.

“Yes!” she wheezed.

“You swear?” Lucien pried.

“Yes!” Feyre repeated, slowly calming down. “Now please, dear boyfriends, release me? I'm already late for work!”

Grinning, they helped her stand and then demanded to be kissed thoroughly in apology for the insult they had suffered at her hands. It was another 15 minutes before Feyre managed to make it out of the apartment, because the moment one boyfriend had released her, the other latched on, demanding to be kissed and hugged. Exhausted before her day had even begun, Feyre fended off the next hug by diving under Rhys’ arms and running for the door before they could catch her again.

She blew them a kiss, smug to have escaped, and waved them goodbye. Lucien and Rhys wore matching pouts, but waved back, Rhys chin propped on Lucien’s shoulder while he hugged him from behind. Feyre giggled over how adorkable they were.

But the second she stepped onto the curb and walked towards the bus stop, her smile faded.

She was beyond happy she was officially their girlfriend now and they had finally determined the rules to their relationship once and for all, but even their silly morning couldn't make her forget, that there was still one huge problem she had to tackle - telling her sisters about the fact, that she had not one, but two boyfriends.

Nervously gripping her phone, Feyre pondered what to do. Nesta had seen her with Rhys. And Feyre had promised to call her. The longer she was dragging her feet on the call, the more pissed Nesta would be.

Raising her eyes to the steely grey sky, Feyre blew out her breath and then called her sister.

Level 3 of the girlfriend game: Introduce your boyfriends to your scary older sister, without getting anyone hurt.


	23. Chapter 23

 “Fuck!”

Feyre tripped over a pair of heels that had been half hidden beneath her couch and almost face-planted into her hardwood floor. She barely managed to catch herself with one arm. Rubbing her stinging palm on her leg, she sat down on her couch to calm down.

She was nervous as hell, because her sisters were coming over to her place tonight, and her apartment was⸺in lack of a better word⸺a pigsty.

Since she basically slept over at the guys’ place almost every night of the week now, she rarely spent more time in her own apartment than was necessary to grab a change of clothes or something else she needed. Consequently, her apartment looked like a clothes bomb had exploded all over the place. Laundry was strewn all over the place, letters, magazines and documents stacked high on whatever surface available.

Most nights, Feyre simply came home, dropped whatever laundry she had been carrying around in her giant shopper bag for days, and exchanged it for fresh clothes, given she had done laundry and there was actually clean clothing available. More often than not, there wasn't, so she had gotten into the habit of simply buying new clothes. The pile of discarded shopping bags and tags was currently leading the race for the biggest dump pile, with Feyre's underwear hot on its heels.

She really needed to clean up. And preferably not when her sisters had announced their immediate arrival.

Feyre hadn't been able to reach Nesta by phone this morning. When Nesta had called her back during the day, Feyre hadn't been able to pick up the phone. They kept trying to reach each other back and forth, missing the other every time. At some point, Nesta had simply declared she'd drop by Feyre's place tonight, bringing Elain with her. And now Feyre was frantically trying to make her place at least a bit more presentable by grabbing everything within her reach and dumping it into her bedroom.

Exhaling with a sigh, Feyre tried to relax. Her stomach was in knots and her hands were shaking, that’s how nervous she was about her sisters coming over. The whole day, she had been pondering over how to break to her sister that she had not one, but two boyfriends, who also happened to be a couple.

Whenever she had been going over the conversation in her head, it had sounded utterly ridiculous. It also always ended in Feyre imagining Nesta wordlessly leaving her apartment and Feyre reading about the assassination of successful business owner Rhysand Nash and his boyfriend in the news tomorrow.

Her sister was a stellar lawyer, if someone would get away with double-homicide, it was her.

Resigned, Feyre rose from her couch and resumed cleaning. There was no way, she could prepare for this, so she’d simply wing it, she decided. She was just throwing the last pair of heels into her bedroom and shutting the door, when the doorbell rang. With a last steadying breath and her shoulders straightened, Feyre marched into battle.

* * *

“Hm. Maybe Chinese? What do you think, Nesta?” Elain shuffled through the stack of takeaway menus, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Nesta kept her gaze into where it had been the last 20 minutes: firmly fixed on Feyre, a predator observing its prey. Feyre swallowed.

Ever since her sisters had arrived, Nesta had been silent, waiting for Feyre's explanation. So far, she had been able to avoid the elephant in the room by engaging in some small talk with Elain and raising the question of dinner, but Nesta’s relentless glare told her, her eldest sister was running out of patience.

Sighing, Feyre put down her wine glass and plucked the pamphlets from Elain's fingers. “Let me just order pizza for us. And while we wait, we can maybe start talking?”

“Okay. Mushroom for me!” Elain said, a big fake smile firmly plastered to her lips.

People often thought Elain simple, because she was easy to be around and smiled a lot, but her sister was frighteningly smart. Maybe even more that Nesta and herself, because contrary to them, Elain knew how to hide her feelings behind a bright, happy facade.

“Nesta, what pizza do you want?”

Nesta merely continued staring at her, a little crease appearing between her brows.

“Okay, Diablo for you!” Feyre decided. After all, her sister could sometimes be the devil incarnate.

Feyre excused herself for a second, ordering their dinner from her favorite pizza place and then braced herself for the long overdue sister talk. Running her hands over her face and hair, Feyre took a couple of breaths and returned to the living room, to find her sisters talking softly between them. When they saw her approaching, they fell immediately silent.

“Okay, let's do this,” Feyre began.

Nesta pounced immediately.

“You introduced the guy I saw you with yesterday as Rhysand.”

There was a slight accusatory lilt to her voice. Feyre felt guilty by default. That’s the effect her sister had on her.

“Yes. That's his name. Rhysand Nash,” Feyre confirmed.

“But Cassian told me, he saw you with a redhead named Lucien two weeks ago. Your former colleague. Cassian claims you’re dating.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Nesta’s steel gaze was getting uncomfortable. Meeting her eyes felt like being pierced. Not for the first time Feyre wondered, if Cassian has a masochistic streak. And then she remembered her eyes were the same color and shape and her boyfriends claimed they got turned by her glaring at them, so she guessed, they were masochists too? Or it was just a guy thing to go for women, whose stares could kill?

“Cassian says, you're dating that Lucien. That same Lucien, you claimed to hate just a few months back. But then I see you with another man and you tell me your dating _him._ Whom are you dating, Feyre. Or are you two-timing? Do they know each other?”

Feyre took another deep breath. This was it. All or nothing. “Both. I'm dating both. But I'm not two-timing.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand,” Elain interjected. “If you're dating them both, how are you not two-timing. And who is this Rhysand? Where did you meet?”

Feyre nervously wetted her lips with her tongue, preparing herself for the hell that was about to break loose.

“Rhysand is Lucien's boyfriend. And also my boyfriend. We three are in a polyamorous relationship.”

Feyre's sisters just stared at her mutely, Elain's jaw practically on the floor. Feyre gave them a faint smile.

“Maybe, I should start from the beginning?”

* * *

“So Lucien is the guy who left you those jealousy flowers?” Elain asked. Her lovely, round face was radiating excited curiosity.

Feyre was completely caught off-guard by her middle-sister’s reaction. Elain was more eager to learn about the dynamic of a polyamorous relationship and her boyfriends than to be appropriately shocked about the fact that Feyre was in a polyamorous relationship to begin with.

“Yeah. He didn't like me and Rhys going on that date we had.”

Feyre's eyes flitted nervously over to Nesta, but her other sister was alarmingly quiet. Feyre was dreading the moment, she'd erupt. It was bound to happen any second now, she was sure of it. As open-minded Elain seemed to be about the whole affair, Feyre was ready to sell her firstborn over Nesta flipping her shit very soon.

She had told her sisters everything, starting from the months of open flirt-fighting with Lucien, how she met Rhys after finally sleeping with Lucien, their _dodgy little mess_ that came after and that had just only been resolved yesterday.

“And you guys really did it in a conference room at work?” Elain pressed on.

“Elain!” Nests sharply interrupted.

Elain turned to her with a pout. “What? Don't tell me, you and Cassian never got it on on your desk.”

“That's beside the point!” Nesta's voice was sharp as a knife. And then she turned to Feyre. “You told me yesterday, this Rhysand isn't your boyfriend.” Apparently, they were back to accusations.

“I told you, it was a misunderstanding. I thought, I wasn't their girlfriend. Rhys and I fought afterwards because of that. He was really pissed at me.”

From the way the corners of Nesta's mouth twitched and the depth of the crease between her brows, her sister was really pissed too. Feyre’s stomach twisted nervously.

“Look, I didn't mean to keep this from you two,” she intercepted any outburst from Nesta, holding up her hands placatingly. ”I didn't tell you two about this, because I was still figuring things out myself. I didn't know what to call this relationship and whether or not it was serious or just a fling.” Feyre avoided looking at them and shrugged helplessly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I was afraid to run around, telling everyone I was in a relationship and then it turned out, it was just a passing infatuation on their part,” she admitted in a small voice.

“So this is serious then?” Nesta’s voice was eerily calm. Feyre nodded in confirmation.

“Do you love them?” Elain asked not unkindly.

Feyre met her gaze. “Yes. Very much.” Turning to Nesta she added, “And they told me, they love me too. They thought of me as their girlfriend from the beginning.”

Elain scooted closer to Feyre and pulled her into an embrace. “I don’t really understand how you can love two people equally at the same time and be in a relationship with them. I’d be so jealous all the time! But I guess as long as you’re happy, that’s fine.”

Feyre let out a relieved laugh that quickly turned into a sob, and before she knew it, she was bawling. Startled, Elain held her closer. “Feyre? What’s wrong?” she asked timidly.

“S-sorry,” Feyre stuttered through tears, wiping away at them. But more followed. Burrowing her face in her hands, she let them fall. Trying to hold them back was futile anyways. “I’m sorry! I meant to tell you! I j-just… I was so afraid of what you’d say!”

“Shhhh!” Elain made, stroking over her hair. She threw a helpless look at Nesta, who stiffly got up from the armchair she had been holding court in and joined them on the couch, awkwardly patting at Feyre’s back. It only caused Feyre to cry harder.

“We love you!” Elain said helplessly. “We don’t love you any less for who you date! Or how many!”

Feyre sniffled and looked to Nesta for confirmation of Elain’s words, but her eldest sister’s face was guarded and unexpressive as usual. Almost absentmindedly, she reached out and brushed away Feyre’s tears.

“Are they treating you right?” she asked.

“They are spoiling me rotten,” Feyre said, smiling through her tears.

Nesta’s nose crinkled in faint disdain and she produced a little snort. “Why are you crying then?”

Strangely, this calmed Feyre down more than Elain’s reassurances had. “Because I’m afraid you’ll march over to their flat and kill them outright.”

Nesta snorted again, this time slightly amused. “Might still happen!”

Feyre and Elain laughed and Feyre snuggled closer in Elain’s arms. “So, you are okay with me having two boyfriends?”

Nesta raised her chin and threw her a haughty look. “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I’m not okay with that.”

Feyre sighed and, to her surprise, Elain did too.

“Nesta, give her a break. She’s happy!” she chided softly. Nesta ignored her.

“I’ll be the judge of that! And right now, she’s crying her eyes out, because she’s stressing over her relationship. Feyre doesn’t look very happy to me!”

Resigned, Elain shook her head and Feyre’s stomach lurched dangerously. She was starting to feel nauseous. “Nesta, please don’t⸺”

“I want to meet them!” Nesta demanded. “This weekend! No skiving!”

“I have to ask them first, if they have time,” Feyre hedged.

“Spare me your excuses. If you’re as important to them as you claim you are, they’ll make time.” Nesta’s tone was resolute. There would be no way out of this.

“Okay. I’ll ask them.”

They would make time, if she asked. They always did. But for once, Feyre wished, they didn’t.

“Good.”

Satisfied, Nesta took up her wine glass and reclined on the couch, content for the moment. Looking for moral support, Feyre turned to Elain, who handed Feyre her own glass.

“Now Feyre,” her sister said, with a sweet smile, “One thing I’m really curious about: who’s better in bed?”

Level 3 of the girlfriend game: Objective stays the same. Defeat endboss Nesta!


	24. Chapter 24

 “Feyre darling, what are you doing?”

“Hm?”

Interrupted in the middle of her bout of stress cleaning, Feyre looked up from where she was kneeling next to the coffee table with a rag in her hand and smiled faintly up to Rhys, who looked very dapper in black, form-fitting slacks and a purple dress shirt. Not that she had expected otherwise. Say what you may, but Rhys was vain. He always looked good.

“There were some fingerprints on the glass. I thought I’d clean the table!”

Rhys raised one eyebrow at her. “In all your finery? 5 minutes before our guests arrive?”

“Finery is a bit over the top, don't you think?” Feyre mumbled embarrassed and took Rhys hand, clambering to her feet, and then looking down at herself.

She was wearing her petrol dress again. Somewhere along the way, it had become her battle armor, it appeared, be it for preparing for a day in the office with snarky Lucien, a date with Rhys or dinner with her sisters. Feyre loosened an agitated breath and Rhys chuckled and propped a finger under her chin, raising her face to his and pressing a soothing kiss to her lips.

“Nervous much?”

“You have no idea!”

Feyre was not a very orderly person. Clean, but not orderly. But for reasons unbeknownst to herself, she began cleaning everything within her reach whenever she was stressed out.

She had started on her own apartment, after her sister had left that fateful Wednesday night. She had called her boyfriends to inform them that there would be a dinner at their place that weekend and then announced, that she wouldn't be over at theirs for the rest of the week, because she needed to sort out her place.

Naturally, they had whined and cajoled, claiming they wouldn't know what to do with themselves without her, trying to convince her to come over, but Feyre had been resolute in her decision. Lucien had stopped by her place on Thursday evening, fully attempting to either seduce or anger her into coming with him, but one look at the state of her apartment and her crazy eyes had had him scurry back to his own place.

Feyre had not only tidied and cleaned out her place, she had gone through her whole closet, sorting through clothes and cleaning out what she no longer needed and wanted to give up for donation and then washing every single item she possessed. She spent her Friday in a washing salon, occupying 4 laundry machines and dryers at the same time, working on a logo design she had to have ready for Monday on her iPad. By Friday evening, her place was spotless and her closet not only organized by season, but also by color.

Feyre had been satisfied, but still agitated the closer the dinner with her sisters⸺and Cassian, apparently⸺got, so she had packed enough clothes to last her for a week and made her way to her boyfriends’ place. She had surprised them in the middle of a cuddle session on the couch watching a movie and squeezed her way in right between them without another word.

Lucien and Rhys had shared a concerned look between them, restarted the movie and fed her some leftover dinner and then simply patted her head and massaged her calves and back as they watched TV, never taking her hands off her, trying to get her to relax. And when they retired for the night, they did their best to take her mind off the dinner all night long.

It had been enough to get her through Saturday morning, but the closer the clock ticked to 7pm, the more nervous Feyre got. Rhys and Lucien had thrown her out of the kitchen and also had forbidden her to have more coffee after her hands had started shaking after the fourth or so cup. Or maybe, it had been the fifth? Lucien had tried to distract her with a quicky not even an hour ago, bending her over the back of the couch. That's when Feyre had spotted the fingerprints on the glass table, determined to clean them, after she’d had her shower and gotten dressed.

Rhys smoothed down her hair and stroked her shoulders, going for another kiss. “Do I need to bend you over the couch like Lucien did? Or would you prefer the wall?” he suggested in a sultry tone, smirking against her lips.

Feyre gave a weak laugh. “In all your finery? 5 minutes before our guests arrive?” she threw his own words back at him. “Also, there's no way you'd finish in 5!”

Rhys gave her a playful wink. “Try me!”

Feyre smiled but shook her head. “Can you please just hold me?” she asked. She was jittery and feeling slightly nauseous. They had been right to bar her access to more coffee earlier. She was already a mess as it was, even without the additional caffeine.

Rhys face turned solemn and he folded her into his arms, one hand at the back of her head, holding her tenderly.

“Hey. It's going to be fine. And even if it doesn't: We are here for you. And we're not going away. We love you, Feyre. I love you!”

Feyre nodded against his chest, careful not to stain his shirt with makeup smudges, and loosened another shaky breath. “I love you too, kitten. You and that damn fox!”

“You called?” Lucien asked behind them, his voice for once soft.

Feyre threw him a distressed look from between Rhys arms and his face turned cloudy. Worldlessy, Rhys opened one arm for Lucien to join their embrace and Lucien's hand moved to the small of Feyre's back, his lips instantly gluing themselves to the top of her head.

“Come on now, love. How bad can it be?” he tried to calm her.

“You have no idea,” Feyre mumbled, her face now squashed against two chests.

“Worst scenario: your sisters hate us.” Lucien shrugged. “I can live with that, as long as you don't break up with us over it. It's not so different from having my own family hate me for my choice in partners. I'm used to it.”

Rhys let out a hissing breath and Lucien frowned at him. “What? It's true!”

“No talk about hating sisters and break-ups. It'll be fine,” Rhys declared adamantly. “Try to be nice for once, babe. I know you can be charming, if you care to be.”

Lucien glowered at Rhys. “If they say something to Feyre…”

“I don't need you to protect me, Luce. And you can bet that Nesta will say something. She's… not really good at going along with convention.”

“Well, then she should fit right in with us,” Lucien grinned and they all burst into laughter, loud enough that they almost overheard the doorbell.

“I'll go get the door,” Lucien announced and quickly kissed both Rhys and a panicky Feyre, who had stopped laughing when she heard the doorbell. “I love you, remember that!”

“ _Go forth to conquer; where the battle rages fiercest, thou wilt be, and I will glory that my love is there struggling for liberty_!” Rhys began reciting in a steady voice.

Feyre looked up to him, bewildered, but Lucien merely gave Rhys the finger over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

“ _Haste to the battlefield! Thy country calls thee to the deadly fight_ _⸺_ _Go forth undaunted in thy manhood’s might, Thy noble cause thy shield; And if thou fallest -_ ”

Rhys had to duck and consequently let go of Feyre, when Lucien’s shoe came sailing through the living room.

“What was that?”

“The Confederate Soldier’s Wife Parting from her Husband. Author unknown.” Rhys shrugged and smirked. “Fitting somehow, don’t you think?”

Feyre rolled her eyes at him and decided to follow Lucien to the door, Rhys hot on her heels. At least, he had annoyed some of her nervousness away.

“You’re lucky I actually love you, else I would’ve thrown my shoe at you too!” And her stiletto heels would likely cause more damage than Lucien’s loafers.

“Yes, I am a very lucky man!” he purred and she could hear the smirk in his voice. Feyre couldn’t help a little smile of her own.

Lucien had already opened the door and Feyre smiled nervously at her sisters, who had already stepped inside, curiously eyeing the hallway to Rhys’ and Lucien’s stylish apartment and Lucien himself, who was in the middle of hugging an extremely cheerful Cassian.

“Thank you for coming,” Rhys said graciously behind her back, stepping forward and holding out his hand for her Elain to shake. “I am Rhysand. Welcome to our home.” Elain took his hand, smiling politely, but Nesta just stared at him. “You must be Elain,” Rhys continued, unfazed. “I had the pleasure of meeting Nesta already.”

“Doubtless a short encounter, else, it couldn’t have been a pleasure,” Elain quipped and Rhys blinked surprised, before rewarding her with one of his trademark smirks. Elain blushed faintly.

“Right,” Feyre said a bit too loudly. “And this is Cassian, Nesta’s boyfriend, who wasn’t invited, but we don’t want to petty, do we?”

Rhys released Elain’s hand, smuggling a little wink her direction and turned to Cassian, who had been softly talking with Lucien and perked up, when he heard his name.

Rhys was about to say hello to him, but then froze. As did Cassian. They just stared at each other in outright shock.

Feyre looked over to Lucien, who shrugged and helplessly shook his head. He had no clue what was happening either. Feyre’s sisters looked equally confused.

“Rhy? What is it?”

Feyre’s question seemed to have unfrozen Rhys, because he hesitantly asked, “Cass?”

And then a big, shit-eating grin was forming on Cassian’s face. “Hello there Rhysie!”

“Rhys, what is going on?” Lucien asked with a dark frown.

Feyre wanted to know too. Did they just use nicknames? Cassian and Rhys couldn’t possibly have history, right? Former lovers? As far as she knew, Cassian didn’t have any interest in men, but maybe a teenage crush? First love?

Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he groaned in frustration, running a hand over his face and then started laughing and let himself be pulled into a bear hug by Cassian, returning the hug with equal force.

“Someone needs to tell us what is going on her, before we all completely freak out,” Feyre announced loudly.

Her gaze slid towards her main concern: Nesta’s eyes had become dangerously squinty, seeing Cassian hold on to Feyre’s boyfriend like he did.

Cassian and Rhys laughed and separated, Rhys quickly wiping his hands over his eyes. Tears openly glistened in Cassian’s. Turning to Feyre’s sisters, with his arm loosely draped around Rhys’ shoulders, he smiled warmly.

“Nesta, Elain, may I introduce you to my brother Rhys?”

New side quest available: Try to understand how the heck your sister’s boyfriend turns out your boyfriend’s brother!


	25. Chapter 25

It had taken some explanation and a second round of aperitifs to work through the shock of Cassian’s earlier revelation.

Apparently, Rhysand’s mother had taken Cassian in as a foster child when he and Rhys had been around 9, raising them together. They had stayed close even after Cassian had moved out and enlisted in the military at age 18. But over the years, they had lost contact. Cassian had been making a name for himself in the army, quickly rising ranks and catching his superior’s eye, which caused him to be deployed overseas and move out to the front on several occasions.

“I was scanning the casualty lists for years, afraid you had died, do you know that? Why didn’t you come to me, after you left the army?” Rhys had asked after Cassian had shortly explained their history to everyone else, his voice thick with barely suppressed tears.

“I did. I only heard about mom’s… I mean your mother’s death after a few months. It was when I had come back after a deployment. But when I came to your old house, I only met your father, who very clearly told me what he thought of me and how he never wanted to see me again. I tried again reaching out to you a year or so after, but…” He had given Feyre and Lucien a quick sideways glance. “There was this nasty redhead I encountered in your stead. She was rather… unpleasant. After that, I kind of gave up.”

Rhys had shaken his head and hugged Cassian again. Lucien and Feyre had taken this as a signal to herd her sisters towards the living room, where they were entertaining them with drinks, giving the long-lost foster brothers a moment to themselves.

“Did you know?” Feyre asked Nesta now, shooting a nervous glance towards the kitchen, where Cassian had offered Rhys to help with the starters. Lucien had wisely decided to stay out of the kitchen to let them have some space, giving them the opportunity to talk. “That Cass had been raised in foster care and then lost contact with them?”

Nesta gave her an odd look. “Of course I knew. He is my boyfriend after all!”

The way she phrased it made Feyre’s hackles rise. It sounded too much like Nesta was implying that Feyre didn’t know shit about her boyfriends. Which wasn’t true. Lucien and her had spent a lot of time talking about his late fiancée and his family lately. And she had talked with Rhys too about his company and his family. Actually, most of their time together, be it in bed or during dinner or breakfast, was spent talking nowadays.

Only Rhys tended to close off whenever they got too close to the topic of his family’s death and his abusive relationship that both Lucien and Cassian had hinted at. He wasn’t ready to broach that topic yet and Feyre hadn’t wanted to push him. He would tell her, when he was ready.

“Funny Cassian never connected my Rhysand to his Rhysie,” Feyre said sharply.

Elain shot them a concerned look, momentarily distracted from her talk with Lucien. They hit it off the second they started talking about flowers. At least one sister Feyre didn’t have to worry about.

“I never bothered telling him the name of the guy you’re dating,” Nesta replied. “After all, I didn’t think it mattered. He could’ve been another one of your flings. You said yourself, he wasn’t your boyfriend!”

Feyre balled her fist, willing herself to remain calm. It wouldn’t help matters if she started a fight with Nesta. “I told you the very day after, that he was my boyfriend and I was serious about this!”

Nesta shrugged and took another sip of her Gin Tonic. Feyre was tempted to slap the drink out of her hand. Lucien, sensing Feyre’s temper, came over and gently took her fisted hand in his, drawing little circles across the back of her hand with his thumb, reminding her, she was not alone in this. Feyre relaxed⸺slightly.

“Say Feyre, why did you actually hate Lucien so much in the beginning? Like, when did it start?” Elain asked, stirring the conversation away from sensitive topics. Feyre gave her a grateful smile.

“Started the very first day,” she confessed with a little smirk in Lucien’s direction. “He had the audacity to give me a once over⸺really, from head to toe and back⸺sneer at me after he was done and then tell me to my face that I had been very obviously hired for my looks and not for my expertise and that I would never be able to measure up to his buddy Andras who had the job before. Pissed me off a great deal.”

Elain’s face fell and she stared in shock at Lucien, taking a half step back from him. Nesta’s squinty-eyed attention was immediately on her boyfriend. So much for less sensitive topics.

But Lucien smiled at at Feyre with that edged, sharp smile she loved so much. “I was all flustered, because I really was set on hating Andras’ replacement, but then you had to be so pretty. And capable. I didn’t know what else to do but to lash out.”

“Believe me, he was so annoying,” Rhys drawled.

He and Cassian were carrying in the first course⸺grilled goat cheese wrapped in bacon and cranberry jam⸺and setting the plates down around the table.

“Lucien came home and gushed about her all evening. He hasn’t stopped since. Especially because Feyre darling proved to be no easy target.” His gaze softened as it fell on Feyre. “I knew she was trouble even before I met her.”

Feyre blushed a deep red and rolled her eyes at him. Cassian laughed and came over to ruffle Feyre’s hair. “They sure are a handful, those Archeron women! Take my advice, keep your backs covered at all times. Balls too!”

“Hey!” Elain complained with a pretty pout. “I’m not a handful!”

“Right, you are two, little troublemaker!” Cassian amended and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead on his way over to Nesta, who still observed Lucien closely. Cassian took his girlfriend’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. This finally had Nesta’s attention turn away from Lucien to Cassian.

“Nesta was giving me hell before she finally gave in and became my girlfriend,” he said with a loving smile that completely contradicted his words.

Nesta gave him the faintest of smiles and her eyes softened a fraction. “I still give you hell.”

Cassian nodded. “Every day. Don’t ever stop! Wouldn’t know what to do without it!”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile. Cassian had a way of diffusing tension, be it with silly jokes or the effortless affection he showed those he cared about. Nesta and him hadn’t been dating that long, barely even a year, but he was already part of her family. A big brother she never had. And she knew Elain felt the same.

“Shall we sit down?” Rhys suggested. “Let’s eat while it’s still warm.”

Feyre eyed him with some concern as she sat down next to him, but he looked calm. Slightly red-eyed, but calm. Rhys took the top of the table and she and Lucien sat down on either side of him. He smirked in her direction when he noticed her stare and took her hand, squeezing it once to let her know he was fine, and then reached for the wine to serve everyone. Lucien was already pouring out water. Elain had sat down next to Feyre, Cassian had chosen the stool next to Lucien and Nesta, of course, had taken the other end, looking every bit like the lady of the house, in prime position to observe the couple across the table from her.

Feyre only hoped, Nesta liked what she saw.

* * *

“How about marriage? How about kids?”

Feyre blew out an agitated breath. Of course Nesta had to go there. She couldn’t simply be content with observing what had been a very pleasant dinner so far.

Halfway through the main course, Nesta was certainly not happy to watch how not only Feyre, but also Cassian and Elain got along with Rhys and Lucien, engaging in nice, steady conversation. Sure, the exchange was a bit stiff sometimes, but that had more to do with Nesta’s relentless, mute observation unnerving everybody than them not liking each other.

When she had finally opened her mouth, it had been to bombard Feyre with questions like _What will people think when they see you together? What if people at work find out? What about the future?_

“Oh please! Personally, I don’t need a piece of paper to determine the worth of my relationship, but I can buy myself a damn dress, invite a ton of people I don’t care about to a party, pay someone to hold pretty speech and declare myself married, if that’s what it takes to convince people that we are actually serious about this relationship!”

Beside her, Rhys bend towards Lucien and whispered in his ear, “We should totally do that! I bet Feyre would look gorgeous in a wedding dress!”

The two of them shared a grin that quickly vanished, when Feyre threw them a warning glare.

“And for the matter of kids,” Feyre turned back to Nesta. “I don’t even know yet, if I _want_ kids. And if I did, I don’t see how that should be any problem.” She jerked her head towards her two boyfriends. “Right now, I’m actually not so much concerned about getting pregnant than about _not_ getting pregnant. They are both very… _virile_ , you know?”

Cassian discreetly masked his laugh with a cough and Elain flushed, an embarrassed giggle escaping her. Lucien and Rhys had the good grace to look slightly bashful, but Feyre saw the glint in Lucien’s eye and the way he nudged Rhys. They would never let her live that one down.

Red, angry blotches had started to appear on Nesta’s neck. She knew Feyre had thrown in the last part to bait her, and her sister readily swallowed the bait.

“And how will you know, who the father is?” Nesta hissed.

Feyre flushed with anger and grabbed her knife harder. She had just been about to cut her steak, but she wouldn't mind using it to cut Nesta’s tongue out. “Easy. Both of them will be.”

“I mean biological father!”

“Well, if the child has black hair, it will be Rhysand’s, if it has red hair, it will be Lucien’s. Although you of all people should know that blood isn’t what makes a family,” Feyre growled.

Nesta flinched and went then went unnaturally still. Feyre immediately regretted having said that

“Okay, I think that’s enough!” Elain declared sternly, reaching for Feyre’s hand and wrenching the knife out of her hand, placing it safely onto her own plate. She kept one hand on Feyre’s and then reached towards Nesta, placing her other hand on her arm.

“Nesta, give her a break. And Feyre,” Elain turned back to her and regarded her with a surprisingly cool look, “You apologize. To both of us!”

Feyre bit down on her bottom lip and nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that!” She looked over to Nesta, who still sat stiffly in her chair, unmoving. “I am sorry, Nes. I really am. Can we… Can we talk about this calmly please? I don’t want to fight!”

Nesta held her gaze for a few heartbeats and then looked to Elain before she gave a tiny nod. It seemed like the whole table collectively exhaled in relief.

“If I can say something,” Rhys suddenly piped up, his gaze on Feyre’s eldest sister. “I know that you are most likely worried about your sister and I understand why. Our relationship is not really considered normal. I get that. But that doesn’t mean that I care about Feyre any less than if we were in a monogamous relationship. I promised her to do everything in my power to make her happy and I intend to keep that promise.”

“If we weren’t committed to this, we wouldn’t be in this relationship,” Lucien added. “We are aware that people will judge us for our choice and will most likely give us shit about it, especially considering the shit you as her family are giving Feyre right now.”

Nesta turned her gaze on Lucien, her fiery, yet ice cold glare speaking of her fury over his words. Lucien answered her with a sharp smile, no less furious with Nesta than she was with him, but better at hiding it.

“But we are willing to live with that⸺for Feyre, for our life together. Can you try to live with it? For your sister? Because I would hate for her to suffer and have a fall out with her sisters because of something like this.”

Feyre had to hastily avert her eyes and blink rapidly several times. Not even one week ago, she had been stressing and fretting over her relationship status and whether or not she would have a future with these two wonderful men. And now they just straight up told her sister they wanted to spend their life with her.

Unshed tears clogged up her throat and threatened to choke her. Rhys noticed and took her hand under the table, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. They shared a small smile.

When Feyre turned again to her sisters, she noticed that Nesta was closely observing her and Rhys.

“Nesta might not have expressed it very well, but we are just worried for our sister,” Elain said, looking pointedly at Lucien. “We are, her sisters after all! We want to protect her.”

Lucien’s face softened a fraction, as did his sharp smile. “Then we want the same thing.”

To Feyre’s surprise, Cassian turned to Nesta. “Sweetheart, I’ve known Rhys for a long time. We’ve more or less grown up together, so he’s somewhat of brother to me⸺”

“I still think of you as my brother, even if we lost contact for a few years. You’ll always be,” Rhys interrupted Cassian softly.

The latter shot him a thankful smile and then turned back to his girlfriend. “He’s a good person, one of the best people I know. He will treat Feyre right. And if not,” Cassian shrugged and grinned, “well, you know Feyre. I’m pretty sure she’ll rip him a new one. And if she needs help, I’ll gladly help her.”

This, finally, made Nesta smile and she gave Cassian a terse nod. It felt like an absolution, like, suddenly, a heavy weight seemed to have lifted off the table.

“Actually Cassian, if we’re talking about ripping holes and protecting our loved ones; I ought to give you my thanks for upsetting my boyfriend.”

Cassian turned to Rhys, one eyebrow mockingly raised, shit-eating grin firmly plastered on his face.

“Oh?”

“That little stunt you and Feyre pulled pretending to go on a date upset him a great deal! I’m inclined to defend his honor by decking you in the face at least once!” Rhys said with a dangerous smile in Cassian’s direction.

Feyre couldn’t tell whether Rhys was joking or not, so she looked at Lucien for help⸺to find him blushing.

_Lucien blushing?_

A little incredulous laugh escaped Feyre.

“Stop it hon,” Lucien said, helplessly patting at Rhys’ arm.

“Yeah, stop it hon,” Feyre mimicked, her grin as wide as Cassian’s by now. Oh how she would love torturing Lucien with this! He shot her a nasty glare that totally missed its mark, because his cheeks were still bright pink. “Also, I don’t remember you ripping me a new one because of that, Rhys.”

Rhys cocked his head at her. “I took you out on a date, remember?”

“So you want a date with Cassian? I think Nesta will not be amused about that,” Elain chirped up.

They all burst into laughter expect for Nesta. But even she couldn’t help the corners of her mouth lifting up slightly.

“If you want to fight, take it outside!” Lucien suggested. “Feyre’s been stress cleaning all day. She’s bound to have a nervous breakdown, if you get the place in disarray!”

Nesta shot Feyre an inquisitive look and she shrugged. “At least I’m doing something productive when I’m stressing.”

The amused snort Nesta released let Feyre’s angry anxiousness instantly bleed away. She and Elain shared a smile and Elain squeezed Feyre’s hand.

Feyre hastily blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She had her sisters’ support and that was all she’d wanted.

“You and me, Wednesday night at my gym!” Cassian prompted to Rhys. “I wanna see how badly you’re out of shape.”

Rhys huffed a dry laugh and raised his wine glass in mock salute. “You’ll be eating your words, mark me!”

The brothers shared a boyish grin end everyone laughed again⸺even Nesta.

Level 3 of the girlfriend game: cleared!


	26. Chapter 26

Rhys flopped onto the couch next to a cuddling Lucien and Feyre and groaned. Feyre took her feet off Lucien’s lap, so Rhys could place his head there instead and bend forward to press a little kiss to his forehead in greeting.

“This bad, huh?” she asked.

“You have no idea!” Rhys whined.

Lucien placed his hand on Rhys chest and gave him a casual but affectionate rub, never taking his eyes off the documentary he was watching on TV.

“Actually, I do,” Feyre said, returning her attention to her iPad on which she was sketching out another design for work now that she had made sure Rhys wasn’t dying. “That’s how I met Cassian. I signed up for one of the self-defense classes at his gym.”

“I beg to differ, darling!” Rhys purred, his hand now over Lucien’s. “Self-defense classes are anywhere near to what he is putting me through.”

Ever since their unplanned reunion at dinner a few weeks back, Rhys and Cassian had been meeting up regularly. As it happened, another foster brother of theirs that Cassian had also been out of contact with, Azriel, was working for Rhys. Ever since the three of them had been reunited, they meet weekly for a joint workout at the gym that Cassian owned, making up all those years void of brotherly skinship by pummeling and whooping each other’s asses.

Lucien shook his head over it and Feyre was slightly worried about the guys being hurt, but despite how much Rhys groaned over stiff muscles and sore spots, he was also noticeably happier. Not that he had been unhappy before, but ever since Cassian had come back to his life, it was as Rhys had an almost tangible carefreeness about him, a new quality of joy to his smiles. It made him even more attractive, which should’ve been impossible, seeing he had been already devastatingly handsome before.

“I should ask Cassian to put me back on training to,” Feyre said, frowning as she took in her thighs that peeked out of the shirt she was wearing.

It was either Lucien’s or Rhys’, she hadn’t bothered to check, when she had stripped out of her clothes after work and dug it out of their closet. She had taken to wearing their shirts whenever she came over and sometimes, like now, only their shirts and her panties.

Feyre critically pinched her thigh between her fingers. “I’m getting a bit soft.”

“I like you soft,” Lucien casually threw in, still not taking his eyes off the TV. “Rhys is buff enough for the three of us, I need your softness to make up for all that hard muscle.”

“But with the two of you feeding me all that delicious stuff, my butt has gotten a bit _too_ soft.”

Not to mention her boobs and thighs. And belly. And arms. Really, she had gotten squishy all over.

“I like your butt the way it is!” Rhys declared. “It’s a cute butt.”

“It’s also great to grab during sex, now that there is more of it,” Lucien grinned and then cursed, because Feyre had slapped the back of his head.

“But if you feel like you should train, go for it darling! It’s important you feel comfortable in your body, no matter what we think,” Rhys reassured.

Feyre put her iPad away for good and bend over Rhys’ head again, this time kissing him on the lips. “If you’re not too tired, I wouldn’t mind working out with you instead of Cassian,” she suggested with a coy smile.

Rhys gave her such a pained look that Lucien to burst out laughing. “What did I do for you guys to torture me like this? I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!”

Slowly, Feyre began unbuttoning her shirt. “Your point being?!”

* * *

Rhys was indeed terribly exhausted the next day, enough so, that Lucien decided to go to work without him.

“Which is actually not bad for once,” he confessed to Feyre over breakfast. “I’m about to meet with potential clients. Rhys tends to be too nice and invest just out of the goodness of his heart, when he could strike a more profitable deal instead. I’m eager to play by my terms for once.”

“Sneaky fox!” Feyre laughed.

They hadn’t been able to rouse Rhys this morning, so they had left him in bed, while the two of them enjoyed a long, steamy shower together and then raided the pantry in search of Rhys’ infamous waffle mix that he usually prepared in advance. They had managed to produce some half-decent waffles and now sat munching at the breakfast bar, nudging the other with their feet as they ate.

Lucien shrugged. “I looked into all the businesses Rhys had invested in the last couple of years. He could’ve made way more money, if he’d wanted.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really Rhys’ main goal, is it?” Feyre said, smiling into her coffee cup as Lucien blew out a sigh.

“No, it’s not. He’s doing it for the local businesses first and foremost. I still need to get used to that. When you work so long at a company like Prythian and under people like Tamlin, that corporate mentality really rubs off on you, it seems.”

“Apropos Tamlin! It seems that he called off the engagement to Ianthe when it turned out, she wasn’t pregnant after all,” Feyre reported.

Feyre knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help feeling some schadenfreude over Ianthe finally stumbling and being called out for her actions. In addition, she couldn’t care less about Tamlin, but he didn’t deserve to be lied to and possibly ruining his life with a marriage to a horrible person like Ianthe. Which was exactly why Feyre might’ve let it slip in front of Alis that Ianthe explicitly told her, she wasn’t pregnant and never had been. Alis had taken the hint and had asked Ianthe about it when Bron and Heart just conveniently _happened_ to be around.

Really, it was amazing that nobody had caught up on Ianthe’s lie sooner. Had she really been pregnant as she had claimed, Ianthe should’ve had a sizeable belly to present by now. From what she had heard, Tamlin hadn’t taken being lied to very well.

Contrary to what Feyre expected though, Lucien did not look amused. Instead, he regarded her with a deep frown.

“Is that so? Well, let’s hope, Tamlin doesn’t come bother you again, now that Ianthe is out of the picture.”

Feyre’s jaw went slack. She hadn’t thought about that.

“You think he would? But Rhys and I put on a really convincing show for him.”

“Who knows.” Lucien scooted a bit closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “But if he does, tell us! Don’t try to deal with him on your own.”

Feyre smiled up to Lucien. “I will, fox.”

Lucien leaned in to kiss her and Feyre all but melted in his arms⸺causing her to tilt the mug she was still holding a bit too far and effectively pouring coffee down her front.

“Shit!”

Her cream-colored top was now adorned with a big, brown splotch of undiluted coffee. Sighing, Feyre put down her mug and started taking off her top.

“Seems like I have to get dressed again.”

Lucien cackled and grabbed her face for another kiss.

“Leave the top for Rhys to clean, love. He planned to do white laundry today anyways. I’ll be off.”

“Sure, bye!”

Feyre hastily downed the rest of her coffee and returned to the bedroom, while Lucien left for work. Ever since her big clean-out, Feyre had decided to keep a couple of things at the guys’ place, just in case she needed clothes to change into like now or when she stayed over unplanned. Rhys barely stirred when she came into the bedroom and rummaged through the closet, but he sleepily blinked his eyes open after she’d changed and came over to kiss him goodbye.

“I’ll be going now, kitten,” Feyre crooned, running a hand through his soft, silky hair.

Rhys made some grumbling sounds that sounded much like he was protesting, but didn’t try to pull her down into bed again, as he usually would’ve, meaning he was more or less awake and had actually understood what Feyre had said.

“I spilled coffee on my top. Can you wash it for me please?”

“Sure. Put it in the sink and soak it. I’ll“⸺he yawned⸺“wash it later.”

“Thanks kitten! Love you!” Feyre pressed another quick kiss to Rhys’ lips and straightened.

“I luff you too,” Rhys mumbled, eyes drifting close again.

By the time Feyre had reached the bedroom door, Rhys was snoring again. Pulling the door shut behind her, Feyre skipped towards the door, a happy smile on her lips.

She found, she really was one lucky girl!

* * *

Feyre should have known that everything had gone too smoothly.

Sure, the beginning, when they still had had to figure out their relationship, had been rocky. But determining a relationship status was always messy business. But after that, everything had been smooth sailing. Even Nesta had accepted Feyre’s relationship with Lucien and Rhys, albeit grudgingly. So far, she and Feyre were avoiding talking about what they deemed sensitive topics, namely the future of Feyre’s relationship and kids, but Nesta inquired politely after her boyfriends whenever they met. She was making an effort to try and understand her sister. If she was being honest, that was more than Feyre had hoped for.

Lately, they had even begun having dates outside the house, being openly affectionate and not holding back from touching and kissing each other. It was something that Feyre had been nervous about⸺the looks other people would give them⸺but she was glad to find that actually, not many people seemed to care or notice. And it was also nice to go on dates with the two of them, instead of only one of her boyfriends. It was something, she hadn’t dared ask for. Feyre stopped being so paranoid about whether people were talking about them, when she saw someone looking their way in a restaurant or holding hands while walking down the street.

So when Feyre arrived at work that day, she wasn’t immediately alarmed when she received more looks than usual, or when people suddenly stopped talking as she passed and started whispering once they deemed her out of an earshot. Only after she ran into Bron in the elevator and he gaped at her when she said hello and then started blushing like crazy, did Feyre feel something was slightly off.

Looking down, she checked her blouse, but it was buttoned all the way up. Discreetly checking the fly of her pants, she found it closed too. Something must be wrong with her make-up then.

“Is there something on my face?” Feyre asked, because Bron kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I… What? No! You look beautiful as always! I mean⸺,” he blushed even deeper. “All good!”

Running a hand over her hair, she checked of any hairs had stolen away from the high bun she wore today. “Is my hair messy? Because, you know, you keep looking at me oddly!”

“No, you look perfect! I mean you always look so good. Your hair is always so pretty!” Bron sputtered, blushing harder.

He wasn’t interested in her, was he? Feyre frowned and chewed on her bottom lip. “Bron, what is it?”

“Um…” he began, but then the elevator stopped and Bron fled with a stammered goodbye.

Confused, Feyre looked after him, until the doors closed and then shook her head. She went to her office to deposit her bag first and start the computer and then went to make herself some tea in the kitchen while her computer booted.

The kitchen was already occupied by two guys Feyre had seen in passing, but never really exchanged words with. She greeted them politely and filled the water kettle with water. While she waited for the water to boil, she dug out her mug, that somehow had ended up at the the back of the shelf. That alone was quite annoying, but even more annoying was, that her teabox, which definitely had had some bags left yesterday, was completely empty. Feyre blew out a frustrated breath. Someone had stolen her tea. It wasn’t the first time either!

“If you want, you can have some of my tea,” the one guy offered her. “Do you like green tea?”

“Uhm yes, that would be very nice!”

Feyre was actually more into Yogi Teas and fruit teas, but the water was already hot and she wanted some damn tea.

“You can have mine, if you prefer black tea,” the other guy offered, leering at her as he said it. Feyre frowned at him. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. “Not thank you. I’m going with the green.”

“You sure? You can have both if you want. You like having two at once don’t you?” he sneered, a sleazy smile on his face.

“Dude!” the other guy reprimanded with a whisper and then handed Feyre a teabag with an apologetic smile.

Feyre was confused, but accepted the teabag with a little frown. Really, what was with people today? Usually, nobody really bothered talking to her, because she had a reputation for being slightly scary after butting heads with Lucien for such a long time.

Feyre strolled back into her office and closed the door, immediately kicking off her shoes as she sat down in her chair and sat cross-legged in the seat. She loved the initial two or three hours before her colleagues started filtering in. She was most productive in these quiet early hours of the day, unbothered by anyone or anything.

She started where she had left off yesterday, eager to finish the assignment she had been working on for quite some time now, but for some strange reason, her inbox kept pinging with e-mail notifications, as well as her phone. After someone had tried calling for the third time, Feyre gave up and checked her phone. Rhys had tried to reach her. He apparently had woken up and found something to be annoyed about. Probably the mess Lucien and her had left behind in the kitchen.  

Feyre dialed back, and while she waited, she clicked her e-mail inbox open.

“What the⸺?”

Feyre cursed the same time Rhys picked up the phone. “Feyre?”

Since she worked based on assignments now, she didn’t bother checking her emails as often as before. But even not checking regularly could explain the flood of emails in her inbox: over 100 emails from both inside and outside the company screamed at her. Feyre gaped at them in shock. What was going on?

“Feyre, are you there?” Rhys sounded frantic over the phone.

“Yeah sorry, I was just… I opened my inbox and it’s really full,” Feyre said absentmindedly, skimming over the emails. Most seemed to contain links.

“Feyre, I need you to come home now!” Rhys sounded strange.

“Why?”

“There has been an article. Some trash magazine has written shit about us and you and Lucien’s names were mentioned and that you work at Prythian. I need you home before the reporters start showing up in your office.”

Dread pooled in Feyre’s stomach, spreading through her body and chasing away every other emotion until she was left completely numb. She glanced at her emails again, her eyes falling on an email from Alis, Subject line: I think you should see this. The email contained the same link as the others had.

“Feyre! Hello?”

“I’m still here,” she whispered back into the phone, clicking on the link.

A new tab opened on her browser⸺some gossip paper. Lots of pink and flashy, bold headlines. Feyre’s gaze immediately snagged on Rhys’ name and a series of pictures of her, Lucien and Rhys. She recognized the scene: it was from a dinner date last Wednesday.

The first picture was shot from outside the restaurant, the three of them sitting at a round dinner table, Rhys leaning over to Feyre and whispering a dirty joke into her ear that had her laugh, Lucien grinning at them from over the table.

The second picture showed them leaving the restaurant, Lucien and Rhys holding hands, Feyre tucked against Lucien’s side, an arm slung loosely around her shoulder, Feyre interlacing her fingers with his, the other hand around Lucien's waist, his lips pressed to her temple.

Both Feyre and Lucien had black bars over their eyes, but they were still painfully recognizable. People who knew them would have no trouble telling it was them.

“I’m coming to pick you up, right now. Lucien is still out in meetings,” Rhys declared and Feyre could hear sounds of him shuffling in the background, fiddling with keys and a door banging. “Do not, I repeat, DO NOT answer any phone calls or emails from reporters. Best, don’t even talk to your colleagues. Someone has been feeding that trash paper information.”

Feyre nodded and then remembered, Rhys couldn’t see her nod through the phone. “Okay. I’m alone in my office anyways, with the door closed. Call me, when you get here?”

“I will!” Rhys paused. “I love you Feyre.”

“I love you too Rhys,” she whispered and hung up.

Rhys would need some 20 minutes before he showed up to drag her to safety. This should leave her with enough time to call Thesan and inform him, that she would be working from home this week⸺and read what people and to say about her relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the late update and being late to responding to comments lately.   
> I'm dealing with some stuff and sometimes find myself unable to answer or put up the chapters in time. But I read every single comment you leave and I want to let you know, they are much appreciated! Thank you for taking your time to read my silly stories and leave your love and thoughts for me.   
> Kisses!


	27. Chapter 27

_Rhysand Nash (31), founder and CEO of successful start-up Velaris Inc., does not only collect businesses to form them according to his tastes, but also lovers it seems._

_Just last week, Mr. Nash was spotted leaving a restaurant in Velaris accompanied not only by one, but two dates: long-term boyfriend Lucien V. (28) and latest conquest Feyre A. (26), a former colleague of Mr. V., working at Prythian Corp._

_Miss A. appeared to be well acquainted with both Mr. Nash and his boyfriend, as the three of them were spotted cuddling and kissing both during the dinner at the restaurant and outside, where they got into the same car and drive away, presumably to continue their date in a more intimate setting._

_A close friend shared exclusive insight into their relationship:_

_“Feyre and Lucien always claimed they hated each other and put on a great show at work, greatly endangered the success of the project they were working on, but secretly, they were all over each other. They shared an office and we often could hear raised voices and loud, banging noises coming out of it.”_

_But it seemed when openly confronted about their behavior, both Miss A. and Mr. V. denied any relation between them._

_“They both said, they had boyfriends, but that was probably just a front, because as I found out, they had the_ same _boyfriend all this time. Feyre practically lives with them, openly calling their place home. Rhysand shows up at work often.”_

_It's astonishing that Prythian Corp. is allowing such lax work ethic in its ranks. Surely, there must be HR rules in place against dating at the office?_

_Although, seeing as Mr. V. recently quit Prythian and joined ranks at Velaris Inc., this shouldn't be a topic anymore?!_

_And who knows, maybe Miss A. will soon not only join her lovers in bed, but at work too?_

Rhysand stared in icy rage at the computer screen. “Who?”

Who indeed. Feyre chewed on a hangnail, wondering who would benefit from this info spreading.

It was not like they were hiding their relationship, but they also didn’t really shout it from the rooftops like other people did. Their profile pictures on social media or messenger didn’t show them as couples, neither did they post couple pictures or announce a relationship status. Their friends and family of course knew, but that was about it. And with exemption of Rhys, neither Lucien nor Feyre were famous enough to warrant the attention of the public eye.

There was some interest in Rhys as successful business owner and start-up miracle, but he hadn’t exactly put his face out there for marketing purposes. He preferred to keep a low profile. The brand spoke for itself. Still, could it be someone trying to damage Velaris?

“Ianthe!”

Feyre and Rhys tore their attention from the screen. Lucien had just come home and finished reading the article. He was staring out of the window, but his hands were balled into fists.

“What would she get out of it?” Feyre asked doubtfully.

Lucien laughed humorlessly and turned to her, a sharp, cruel smile on his lips. “That woman thrives in breaking up couples, Feyre. She preys on men who are taken. Only she didn’t get me. Not that she didn’t try.”

“So you think it’s some sick attempt at retribution?”

Feyre still wasn’t a 100% convinced.

“That sounds plausible,” Rhys acknowledged with a slight frown. “She knows Feyre and I are couple after I pulled that stunt with Tamlin. And I never exactly hid I was in a relationship with Lucien to begin with.”

He contemplated Lucien with a grim smirk.

“She was after Lucien, but he refused her more than once, making it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. Not only that, but he preferred you over her, Feyre, no matter how hard she tried. And now you do not have only one, but two boyfriends -”

“Really handsome and good-looking boyfriends,” Lucien supplied with some snark.

“Right, thanks for that, babe. Someone like her can’t let that slide. Maybe it’s just a way for her to try break us up? Or to annoy us.”

Hot, burning wrath tore through Feyre. “I’m gonna sue her.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow at her. “For what? Telling the truth?”

Feyre scowled at him, but he was right. Ianthe had done nothing but tell the truth in the most despicable way possible. “I can sue for damages. This will no doubt affect my work. I mean, they wrote where I'm working! And Rhys’ image? What about Velaris Inc.? You ever thought about that, Luce?” she snapped back.

“We are not going to do anything,” Rhys declared sternly. “If I sue her, should it really affect the company, it looks like I’m ashamed for my relationship with you. Which -” he growled, silencing Feyre, who had opened her mouth to protest, with a hard look, “I am absolutely not!”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest and threw him a mighty scowl, but didn’t argue back.

Lucien blew out a breath and combed his hair back with both hands. “Well, this is going to get a bit annoying, won’t it?”

* * *

A bit annoying had been the understatement of the century.

Feyre’s inbox at work remained flooded with emails from reporters asking for an interview, upstanding citizens urging her to reconsider her choices or simply to condemn them and leave some hate for good measure. Same with her Facebook inbox.

This last problem she could avoid by simply logging off, deleting the app from her phone and not giving a shit, but her inbox was another matter. So Feyre spend most of the next morning sorting through emails and deleting those, that weren’t work related. Before leaving work yesterday, she had set her phone to forward her calls to her cell, in case Thesan or a client called with an urgent matter, but Feyre quickly realized that she had to mute her phone, because it kept ringing.

She didn’t even pick up internal calls anymore, because some of her co-workers were just as nosy and judgmental as people outside the company. The fact that a fair share of them knew Lucien and Rhys from when they worked at Prythian didn't make their situation better.

Immediately after the release of the article, Rhys had spent the better part of the day calling family and friends, urging them to stay tight lipped about the whole affair.

Nesta had taken it as a great insult Rhysand had bothered to ask at all and then chewed him out for over an hour, claiming he wasn't doing as good as a job of taking care of Feyre as he had promised her he would. After that particular call, Rhys was in much need of cuddling.

“But, I mean, don't you think it would help if we tell people how loving your relationship is?” Elain had asked when they called her. She was on loudspeaker so they all could listen and talk.

Rhys had shaken his head and buried his face back in Feyre's chest, still rattled after his fight with Nesta.

Lucien had eyed him out of the corner of his eye and sighed. “No Lanie, I'm afraid it won't help. They'll just spin your words around however they like. Best not give them more fodder.”

Elain and Lucien and become great friends, so she had given in fairly quick and then sent them over a flower arrangement full of encouragement and well wishes. This finally had cheered Rhys up.

Velaris Inc. hadn’t been impacted yet, but the article had only been out a little more than a day. Still, Rhys had gone out to make rounds, visiting some clients and check up on them, while Lucien and Feyre stayed behind, holing themselves up in the guys’ apartment, sulking on the couch with their laptops.

Lucien looked up, when he heard Feyre inhale sharply and scooted over to her to peek at her screen.

_From: Tamlin.OTool@prythian-corp.pr_

_Subject: I am very disappointed_

_Feyre,_

_I have thought you a better person that this and frankly, I’m disgusted at your immoral behavior. Then again, what can you expect from a woman, who is dating a gay couple. I am horrified to think that I was even slightly inclined to give in to your flirtation attempts, although that would have been highly inappropriate, seeing I was your boss and all._

_You need help and I hope you will find it soon. I am more than willing to help you back onto the right path. You can call me anytime._

_Tamlin_

“Filthy hypocrite,” Lucien snarled. “‘You can call anytime?’ The fucker still wants in your pants!”

Boiling with rage, Feyre opened a folder in her explorer she had created exactly for this purpose and copied Tamlin’s email to it, neatly labeling it with his name and today’s date.

“Love, what are you doing?” Lucien asked, looking at the long list of little envelope icons that filled the folder.

“Just because Rhys doesn’t want me to sue doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep a record of all the slander and slurs people send me. Especially if it comes from within the company,” Feyre hissed. “I’m sure the higher ups will summon me shortly to discuss the article and the damage to the company, and I plan to present them with a nice package of inappropriate in return.”

Lucien gaped at her and returned his gaze back to the screen. “All of this is slander from colleagues?”

“Yeah.”

Lucien’s face turned somber. “This is all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to go through all of this.”

“Lucien, no!” Feyre cried and pushed the laptop from her legs, clutching his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her. “Don’t be like this. It was my decision to be with you two. And I don’t regret it! Not for one second.”

Lucien didn’t look convinced, a bitter twist about his mouth. Feyre leaned forward to kiss it away.

“Don’t, fox. Don’t do this. Even if I had known about you and Rhys before we started what we started, I’m sure I couldn’t have helped but fall in love with you.” Feyre ran her hands over Lucien’s silky hair in a soothing gesture. “I mean,” she said with a shy smile, “how could I have stayed away from you. From this?”

Sighing deeply, Lucien leaned forward and pressed his head to her shoulder. His shoulders were still tense, so Feyre continued to run a hand through his hair, softly massaging his scalp.

Rhys found them like this shortly after. It only took one alarmed look from Feyre for him to know Lucien was not in a good mood. Rhys wordlessly sat down on the couch and molded himself to Lucien’s back, pressing a soft kiss to his nape. “Why so sad, babe?”

“Feyre’s getting spammed with insults and shit.”

Rhys raised his head in alarm and shot Feyre a troubled look, but she shook her head. “It’s just some people from work writing nasty emails and being nosy. They’ll lose interest soon enough.”

“I hope you’re saving those emails to complain to HR,” Rhys growled.

Feyre smiled weakly. “Sure I am. I learned from the best!”

“Good girl!”

Rhys chuckled faintly and kissed Lucien’s nape again. “Come on, babe. If that’s all they have, then we got nothing to worry about. Everyone I spoke with today was really amicable and supportive. As long as people don’t suddenly boycott their businesses because of their affiliation to us, they don’t care about our private life.”

Lucien sighed and released the tension in his body, slumping against Feyre. She reclined back against the couch and pulled Lucien with her, so he was lying half on top of her, face still presses against her shoulder. Rhys dug out the pillows that made up the backrest, carelessly throwing them on the ground, and squeezed himself into the space he had created, lying down next to the two of them.

“How about we go on a vacation?” Rhys proposed, rubbing Lucien's back and pressing a light kiss to Feyre's temple.

“I haven't been on vacation since I started working at Prythian,” Feyre confessed with a slight smile. “I didn't want to take time off. I didn't trust this sneaky fox here to not rub it into my face, how I left him to do all the work himself.”

This finally made Lucien raise his head and allow Feyre and Rhys to see his face.

“Same,” he said, not quite smiling, but not brooding either. “You little minx would've tortured me for weeks about how I took my sweet time off while you had to work your ass off.”

Feyre laughed and pressed a kiss to Lucien's cheek. When she pulled away, the corners of his mouth were curled upwards. “I totally would have!”

“It's settled then,” Rhys declared. “I need a day or two to arrange everything and then we're off. Feyre, you think you can get off work on short notice?”

Feyre nodded confidently. “Thesan hinted that it would be better for me to stay home until things blew over. It shouldn't be a problem. If not, I can still work from wherever we go, as long as I have WiFi and my iPad.”

“Where would we go?” Lucien mumbled, restring his head back on Feyre's shoulder, but this time with his face turned towards Rhys.

“Somewhere warm,” Feyre proposed. It was getting chilly lately with autumn already on the doorstep, impatiently rocking on its feet.

“Somewhere remote,” a grumpy Lucien voiced. “A house in the desert. Or a lonely island.”

“How about a nice, recluse Villa somewhere in the Mediterranean? No neighbors for miles, just we three between citrus and olive trees and sunshine?”

Rhys’ face took on a dreamy expression and Feyre had no trouble imagining what he was cooking up in his head. A nice, spacious finca, made out of white or beige stones, tiles on the floor, doors and windows open, curtains swaying in the wind that smelled of sunshine, dust, crushed rosemary and the faintest trace of sea. A nice, roofed terrace where they would take their meals, lounge chairs they could nap in after eating. And when they woke up after their little slumber, they would dip into the pool and chill out in the cool water, gazing down towards the sea, mountains guarding their back.

“Sounds lovely,” Feyre sighed. “We could run around wearing swimsuits all day, not bothering who saw. I might actually get a tan for once!”

Rhys chuckled and bend down towards Lucien, whispering something into his ear. Feyre caught the words “stealing” and “boobs out”. She also caught a flash of Lucien's teeth as he smiled.

“If you two are conspiring to steal my bikini top, so you can ogle my boobs all day, this vacation is over before it even started,” Feyre threatened.

Lucien raised his head and grinned wickedly. Feyre was instantly relieved to see him back to a better mood.

“We're only concerned about your tan lines, love. Wouldn't want to ruin your tan now, would you?”

Feyre snorted and pushed Lucien off her. He tumbled on his side, where he was immediately caged by Rhys, who spooned him and bit playfully at his neck.

“The only tanlines I'm concerned about are your handprints on my ass, because I know you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me,” she teased, getting up and searching for her phone. Behind her, her boyfriends snickered like schoolboys.

“We could go for an Ariel tan,” Rhys proposed. “I personally would be delighted to help you with that one.”

Feyre turned and arched her eyebrows questioningly, so Rhys demonstrated what he meant with a dirty smirk. He placed his hands Lucien's chest from behind, imitating the seashells the little Mermaid wore to hide her boobs. Lucien exploded with laughter.

Pointing at them with the hand that still held her phone, Feyre shot them a warning look. “You try anything like that, Rhysand Nash, and I'm breaking up with your sorry ass so hard, Lucien won't be able to fuck it for weeks to come.”

Lucien laughed harder, tears springing from his good eye.

“And anyways, Lucien is the redhead, so he would make a better Ariel than me.”

Lucien began wheezing.

“Really, now that I think about it, you make the perfect Eric and Ariel. I mean, you actually kind of look like the prince, Rhys. And you're equally thick sometimes.”

“Well, it's hard to guess at what my princess is thinking, when he doesn't tell me,” Rhys chuckled, squeezing Lucien's chest that he was still cupping. “But when I'm the prince and Lucien is the mermaid, pray tell, who are you in this story, darling? Naggy Sebastian or papa Triton, trying to ruin all the fun because they're not having any either?”

Feyre narrowed her eyes at Rhys. “More like the evil sea witch, cockblocking you for the next few weeks.”

By now, Lucien was slapping his hand on the couch like a wrestler asking for surrender. Feyre and Rhys exchanged a relieved look and a loving smile. They both hated seeing Lucien sad and if having a silly fight over nothing cheered him up, they'd do it anytime. They was nothing they wouldn't do for his sake.

Feyre pointed at Rhys again. “I'll go call Thesan about taking a two-week vacation. You better make me some damn delicious food tonight to apologize, you prick.”

“I was planning on eating _you_ tonight in apology, but sure, we can have dinner first,” Rhys suggested with a smirk and Feyre shook her head, unable to contain her smile, and walked towards Rhys’ office to make her call.

“What's for dinner, other than Feyre, I mean?” Lucien asked, still breathless from laughter.

“I don't know, babe. How does fish sound to you?”

Feyre flipped them the bird over the shoulder as she left the room. Their laughter chased her all the way to the hallway.

New side quest: Try to survive the storm that tries to drown the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: Unedited!


	28. Chapter 28

“Feyre!”

“Miss Archeron, look this way please!”

“Hey, Feyre. How is it to be with two guys at once?”

“Who do you like more, Lucien or Rhysand?”

The second Feyre had stepped out of the little deli she had bought her lunch in, reporters had swarmed around her, trying to get her to answer. Feyre ignored them as best as she could and continued making her way back to work. She had originally planned to have lunch in the nearby dog park, but seeing the gossip-hungry crowd around her, she had quickly abandoned her hopes for a fur-filled afternoon. The last thing she needed was them taking pictures of her eating.

Their vacation had been magical. Rhys had truly thrown around some money and had booked them an entire villa on some barely inhabited Greek island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, where they didn't see anyone except for the locals when they went grocery shopping at the tiny village almost an hour away by car.

Their days had been spent with lazy mornings in bed, followed by lazy afternoons sunbathing and napping, long, slow make-out sessions, some skinny dipping in the villa’s pool, much cuddling until it grew too hot and they had to dip into the pool again to wash off the sweat, and a fantastic dinner every night, gorging themselves on local delicacies like pulpo, olives, feta and vine leaves stuffed with rice or meat.

And sex. Lots of lazy, slow, intimate and loving sex.

The guys had made good of their promise and stolen Feyre's bikini top on day one, but instead of trying to get it back, she had simply taken of her bikini bottoms as well and thrown towards a drooling Lucien before lying down to sunbath. Needless to say, she was sporting a perfect tan two weeks later, not one tan line in sight, despite her boyfriends’ eager hands and mouths continuously running over her body, trying to leave a reverse imprint of their fingers on her.

The vacation had been fantastic and a much-needed relaxation, but when they had come home a few days ago, it was to find that the media shitstorm they had expected to die down during their absence had not abated, but instead worked itself up into a full blown orcan.

Lacking any official statement from their side, the gossip magazine that had published the first article had taken it into its own hands to write another, highly speculative article about them, fantasizing over their preferred practices in bed.

It was nasty enough for Rhys to file a cease and desist order, and for whoever hadn't been interested by the story so far to run their mouth about how Feyre was so lucky to have 2 men pleasuring her and call her a slut in the same breath.

And now reporters and paparazzi were on their heels at almost all times of the day.

Lucien and Rhys didn't go out to meet their business partners anymore but had them come over to the Velaris office that Feyre, despite refusing to believe it for the longest time, had found out actually existed, or had their meetings via Skype to avoid drawing negative attention to the many businesses that belonged to the Velaris Inc. network.

They hadn't found out were the guys apartment was yet, but after someone had followed Feyre home one day on the bus, they were camped out in front of her apartment most of the time. So she had temporarily moved into her boyfriends’ place.

And now they also bothered Feyre at work, or more like as soon as she left the premises of Prythian Corp. Someone must've tipped them off about the deli, because when she had bought her lunch here yesterday, not one paparazzi had been in sight.

With clenched teeth, Feyre fought her way through the masses, trying to ignore the blinding flashes of the cameras and the reporters’ many questions.

“How often do you guys have sex? Do all three of you do it together, Feyre? Do you take both at the same time?”

Feyre stopped dead and turned towards the leering face of a reporter, who held his microphone expectantly forward. He was terribly smug, probably because he had managed to coax a reaction out of her. He looked like the average 40 something guy from next door, completely normal, except for the suggestive sneer he was sporting and the perverse, lusty gaze he regarded her with. Feyre was appalled. And then she noticed the wedding band on the hand holding the mic.

“How often do you sleep with your partner?” Feyre asked him, cocking her head inquisitively. “Are you married to a man or a woman?”

“What... I don’t…” the reporter stammered clearly caught by surprise. More mics were pushed their direction.

Feyre tilted her head further and pressed on. “Do you like your partner to put it up your ass while you’re doing it? Do you use toys?”

“What the?” The reporter started swelling in indignation, his neck growing red. “I’m not… You can’t—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she interrupted him coldly, fixing him on the spot with a glare. “Since you’ve been asking me about my bedroom habits, I’ve thought I have missed something and it’s become appropriate now to ask other people you don’t know about their sex life.”

Silence spread over the crowd for a moment, expect for the still frantic clicks and flashes of the cameras around them. And then, fully knowing it was a petty move, Feyre ripped the mic that he still held out to her out of the reporter’s hand, held it level in front of his face, and dropped it.

The cameras went off like crazy, blinding her, but Feyre merely stared at the douche for another second and then confidently threw her hair back over her shoulder. Then she turned on her heel and resumed walking.

The crowd of stunned reporters and cameraman parted in front of her like the red sea. One raised his hand as she passed and they high-fived, Feyre never breaking her stride.

Only when she had left the crowd behind and made it safely into her office building, did Feyre allow herself a huge, big grin.

* * *

Feyre was attacked the moment she made it home that night.

She didn’t even get to unlock the door herself, it was ripped open the second she inserted the key into the keyhole. Rhys stared down at her in wonder and then clutched her face between his hands and kissed her so hard, she had trouble breathing. And thinking.

“Rhys, wait, I—” Feyre gasped, pushing him off, but Lucien was already there, a huge, wicked grin on his face as he engulfed them both in a crushing hug.

“Get off me, you beasts,” Feyre protested, trying to wiggle out of their arms, but her boyfriends just laughed and continued their onslaught of kisses and hugs.

“You’re exquisite, darling,” Rhys breathed the same time Lucien said, “That was badass, love!”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

Feyre stopped trying to fight them off.

“You’re all over social media!” Lucien said, his grin so wide, he was flashing his cute, little fang. “They’re loving you!”

Feyre blinked and turned to Rhys. Luckily, he understood her silent plea for context.

“Someone recorded the interaction you had with that asshole reporter earlier today. They put it on Twitter and since then, it’s been circling around social media. They made gifs of you dropping that mic, darling!”

Lucien threw his head back and laughed. “And of you throwing your hair over your shoulder before walking away. Gosh, how I hated when you did that to me! It was your _I’m better than you_ , _you can’t touch me_ \- move.”

Feyre let out a choked laugh, completely stunned by the news. “So, that’s good?”

They gave her a funny look. “Of course it is, love. Nobody is talking about us or our relationship anymore, but how you threw back those asshole’s words into his face.”

“They’re all ashamed now, because they have been asking themselves that exact same shit, some of the reporters even outright, and you put it right into a new perspective for them: no matter what the relationship looks like, it’s just rude to ask strangers about their sex life,” Rhys elaborated.

Bending down, he pressed his lips to Feyre’s again. “You’re so little, but so fierce, darling. Thank you for protecting us.”

Feyre blushed a deep crimson and gave a little embarrassed laugh. Still grinning, Lucien pulled them both towards the kitchen. A bottle of champagne was already sitting on the counter, waiting to be opened.

“Oh, come on, now you’re being just plain ridiculous. All I did was tell some asshole off.”

“Magnificently, I might say!” Lucien added.

“Splendidly!” Rhys agreed, unwrapping the foil from the bottle’s neck and carefully started undoing the metal wiring to pop the cork.

“Marvelously!”

Lucien drew Feyre into his arms and smacked a very wet kiss to her lips that made her laugh again. Her boyfriends’ good mood was infectious.

“Grandiously!”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “That’s not even a word, kitten!”

“It is now!” Rhys announced and popped the cork. Because he had gone too enthusiastically about it, the champagne bubbled and shot out of the bottle like a jet stream. Feyre and Lucien both screamed in horror, lamenting the loss of good alcohol, but Rhys dismissed their concern with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, I have a second bottle.”

“I better call in sick for tomorrow then,” Feyre deadpanned.

Grabbing the roll of paper towels, she and Lucien started mopping up the spilled liquid, while Rhys poured with flourish, spilling even more, too excited for his own good. He distributed the glasses with a kiss each, and then raised his own flute over his head. But before he could utter what was doubtlessly be a very silly toast, his phone started buzzing. With a sigh, Rhys lowered his glass and dug his phone from the pocket of his black slacks.

“Who is it?” Feyre inquired while taking a sip of her champagne, not bothering to wait for them to toast. Lucien, on the other hand, scowled. “Don’t bother, hon! It’s probably just another reporter.”

With Rhys being the focal point for the tabloids’ stories, because of him actually being someone, he had received the brunt of the public’s interest. His phone was ringing almost nonstop, but because Rhys was afraid to miss potential business opportunities and wanted to be available to his business partners, he never shut off his phone except for when they went to bed. He ignored Lucien’s advice and, with a small apologetic smile to them, he picked up.

“Rhysand Nash?” he answered, listening to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line. When his dark brows knitted together dangerously, Lucien grunted in annoyance.

“Told him so,” he whispered to Feyre. “That’s definitely the media!”

Feyre shrugged and continued sipping her champagne, snuggling closer to Lucien, who snaked an arm around her waist and drew her closer.

“There was an interesting question by one of the reporters today, Miss Archeron,” Lucien teased, smuggling a kiss onto her head.

Feyre arched an eyebrow at him on question.

“Who do you actually like better?” Me or Rhys?”

Feyre snorted and returned her attention back to Rhys, who was still listening to the caller. The fact that he hadn’t said anything so far didn’t sit well with Feyre.

“Don't worry fox. I think the two of you are equally annoying,” Feyre mumbled, albeit absentmindedly. She was distracted by Rhys expression, which slowly transformed from a sulk to a radiant, blinding smile. Whoever was calling, it was good news.

“Well,” Rhys suddenly spoke up, his gaze flitting over to Feyre. His eyes were filled with so much tender emotion when he regarded her, Feyre couldn't help but blush.

“If I didn't already love her and told her repeatedly, I’d confess right this very moment. Actually, let me do exactly that.”

Pulling the phone slightly away from his ear, Rhys fixed Feyre with his violet gaze, which turned even more intense. Feyre’s chest constricted.

“Feyre Archeron, I love you so fucking much!”

“Oh my God!” Feyre blushed even harder, her cheeks positively radiating heat. “Rhys, who are you talking to?”

But Rhys just shook his head, still smiling, and—to Feyre's surprise—handed the phone over to Lucien, who took it with a little confused frown and pressed the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Meanwhile, Rhys closed whatever distance was between him and Feyre and cupped her face between his large hands, pressing the softest kiss imaginable to her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips once more. “So, so much. You and Lucien both!”

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed. “What is going on?”

She was so terribly confused, especially because Lucien suddenly let out a soft laugh, grinning like a fool.

“Yeah, that's my girl,” he declared, his face glowing with fierce pride.

The other person said something, causing Lucien's face to grow uncharacteristically soft. His gaze roamed over both Feyre and Rhys.

“They are my life, my everything!” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I'm the luckiest man in this world, because I get to have not only one, but two great loves in one lifetime.”

“Oh my God,” Feyre whispered again, burying her face against Rhys chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could feel Rhys chest rumble with silent laughter as he pressed her closer to him, engulfing her in his arms.

“Yeah, yes of course! Sure. No, you’re welcome. No, I don’t think Feyre is up for a comment at the moment. By the looks of it, she’s way too embarrassed right now,” Lucien declared to the mystery caller.

The vibrations in Rhys’ chest picked up in intensity and Feyre blindly flipped the bird towards Lucien. He laughed wildly in response.

“Yes. We’ll watch! Thanks.”

Lucien ended the call and came over to them, kissing Rhys very soundly and then prying Feyre away from their boyfriend’s chest.

“You two! I love you!” Lucien growled and drowned Feyre’s half-hearted protest in a flood of kisses.

Pressing her hands firmly against Lucien’s chest, Feyre shoved him off lightly and pinned her boyfriends with a glare.

“Okay. One of you needs to tell me what the hell just happened. Who was on the phone? Why did you suddenly turn into such cheeseballs?”

Not that she minded hearing how much they loved her, but to tell other people what they just had said? There wasn't a hole big enough for Feyre to crawl into.

Lucien and Rhys shared a broad grin before Rhys turned back to Feyre and declared with a smirk, “That was someone from PBN!”

“PBN?” Feyre needed a moment to place the info. Then she gasped. “PBN?!? As in—”

“Prythian Broadcasting Network,” Lucien interrupted, confirming Feyre’s suspicion. He looked terribly smug.

Feyre sucked in sharp breath. PBN just happened to be the biggest cable network company in all of Prythian. No big deal, right?

“Was that an interview? Did they interview you?” Feyre cried in panic, her gaze flitted between Rhys and Lucien, who, for some reason, seemed completely relaxed. She herself not so much.

“Yeah,” Rhys simply said. “They asked me, what I thought about you, seeing that interaction today.”

“And you two just sprouted all that cheesy shit? To a major cable network?” By now, Feyre was shrieking. “You told them, you loved me!” Staring up to Lucien with wild eyes, Feyre added, “The loves of your life?”

Laughing softly, Lucien pulled Feyre in his arms. “Yes. You and Rhys.”

Feyre was frozen in shock and mortification. “Why? Why would you do that? What about not engaging with the media?”

“Well, darling, first of all, I did say this because it’s the truth,” Rhys purred. “And secondly, that was not some gossip paper calling, it was national television.” With a shrug and a smirk, he added, “And they said a bunch of very nice things about you, so I like them.”

Groaning, Feyre hid her face in her hands. She was bordering on hysteria, not knowing whether to cry or laugh or both. Her boyfriends had just gushed about her to national television.

And then a thought struck her. Snapping her head up, she squinted at Lucien and Rhys.

“Why would PNB bother calling you anyways? What's their deal?”

Their grins deepening was surely not a good sign.

“Love,” Lucien chuckled. “Your little spat today? It made tonight’s news.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

Feyre sighed and placed the last of her personal belongings into the little cardboard box she had brought for this purpose, casting a final nostalgic look over her now empty and impersonal desk.

It had only been a few months since she had last cleaned out a desk at Prythian Corp and now, regretfully, she had to do it again.

She simply couldn’t work here anymore. Not after national television had broadcasted her stupid boyfriends’ confession during the evening news, announcing their relationship to the whole fucking country. Now all of Prythian knew about Feyre and her petty fight with the reporter and, consequently, about her polyamorous relationship. Which wasn’t bad per se, but what Feyre had trouble with was all the attention she was now receiving.

Not a day went by without people asking Feyre about her relationship, people at work openly sneering and taunting her, rude emails being sent her way. If it were only these things, Feyre could’ve had ignored them, but what really got to her was the continued presence of paparazzi and people, who, disregarding her privacy, would snap pictures of her whenever she was out or at work, selling the pictures to hungry gossip papers or distribute them via social media.

Last week, a picture of her and her sisters made headlines for nothing more than walking down the streets together while shopping. It was a pretty picture, showing the three of them walking down the main shopping street. Elain had just asked Feyre a rather naughty and very inappropriate question about her boys’ “skills”, sporting a wide grin. Feyre looked down to her feet with a bashful smile and even Nesta almost smiled, although her nose was wrinkled in slight disapproval.

The headline had been less pretty.

_Feyre’s Fabulous Sisters−A Coop Full of Girlfriends?_

It was vile, trashy article, pointing out their outward likeness and how Rhysand and Lucien could easily replace Feyre with one of her sisters−or add another Archeron to their collection, seeing that theirs was a polyamorous relationship.

_Why settle with one Archeron, if you can have multiple, right?_

Feyre had been furious and inconsolable. It was one thing when the media attacked her, but her life choices affecting her sisters was something Feyre could not condone. The gossip papers had gone too far with their morbid curiosity of her affairs.

Luckily, Nesta had been equally pissed about the article, if not more so, and had since made it her personal hobby to threaten every gossip paper daring to even mention Feyre or her boyfriends with impending lawsuits.

Just yesterday, Cassian had called to report that Nesta was having the time of her life and that Feyre needn’t feel bad about the whole situation.

“Really Fey, she’s having so much fun ripping into them over the phone, I’m afraid of what will happen once this whole circus dies down. I might need to start feeding the rumor mill just to keep her entertained,” Cassian whispered over the phone.

In the background, Nesta could be heard snapping at somebody in her usual authoritative manner.

“I appreciate Nesta taking care of this, but don’t you dare run your fat mouth just for that. Don’t you have other ways keeping your girlfriend entertained?” Feyre had hissed. “I don’t know, your dick maybe?”

“Little sis, my dick keeps Nesta plenty entertained. As do my fingers. And my to−”

“Yeah, you know what, I actually don’t wanna know!”

“Hey, you asked!”

Thinking back the the friendly quarrel that ensued, Feyre couldn’t help but smile as she put the lid on her box with personal items. Cassian never failed to cheer her up.

“So it’s true? You’re leaving?”

Feyre looked up. When she saw it was Tarquin that had entered their office and spoken, she flashed him a smile. She was relieved when he returned it.

“Hey there! Yes, I’m leaving.”

Tarquin’s smile turned faint. “That’s a shame.”  

Feyre shrugged helplessly and averted her eyes. “Yeah.”

“They…” Tarquin ran a hand through his hair. “They fired you?”

“No. I quit.”

Tarquin’s head snapped back to her, his eyes wide with surprise. Feyre gave him a rueful smile.

“People’s behavior was getting tedious,” she confessed. “I was fed up with getting harassed.”

Tarquin looked genuinely shocked at her admission. “Because of your relationship? I had no idea it was that bad!”

After weeks and weeks of people’s ridicule and harassment, Feyre had had enough. She liked her job, but not enough to continue being treated this way by her colleagues. So, armed with every single email that was sent to her from people within the company, she had requested a meeting with HR and laid down her terms: she would quit, but the company would hand out a severance package as it would have been the case had she been fired. Else, Feyre would make use of her new popularity with the media shed light on the poor management at Prythian Inc.

After all, she had not only harassed by colleagues, but also by her former boss. Tamlin hadn’t stopped at one email but had continuously send Feyre emails that were both aimed to degrade her and try to convince her his bed was more comfortable than the one she had at Lucien and Rhys’ place. Feyre had felt violated and in need of a shower just by reading them.

Highly alarmed by the meticulously documented emails, the company almost toppled over their own feet to give Feyre everything she demanded−and a big fat bonus payout on top. Probably to appease her and hoping, it would shut her up.

“I’m genuinely sorry it has come to this,” Tarquin murmured. “I liked working with you, even if you weren’t around that often lately.”

Feyre put down the box she had just picked up again and rounded her table, pulling Tarquin into a brief, friendly hug, patting him on the back.

“Thank you!” Feyre said honestly. “I liked working with you too!” Pulling back, she smiled up into his face, causing the color on Tarquin’s cheeks to deepen. “And thank you for never giving me shit about… you know…”

“Rhysand and Lucien?” Tarquin gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I don’t make it a habit to judge other people’s relationships. You’re a good person Feyre.”

Warmth flooded Feyre and she had to bite back tears. As horrible as she had been treated in the last few weeks, there were still people like Tarquin who were genuinely nice.

“Thank you,” Feyre whispered hoarsely. Tarquin shrugged noncommittal, as if his endorsement wasn’t a big deal. To Feyre, it was.

“But I have to confess, I was a bit surprised to hear you and Rhysand were dating. I mean, I knew he had been in a relationship with Lucien for some time now.”

“You did?”

Tarquin threw her a shrewd glance. “Those negotiations were legendary.”

“So I keep hearing,” Feyre mumbled. And then, with a big grin, she admitted, “That time when Rhys came to the office and you met? I thought you were jealous of me, because you were into Rhys.”

“Naw!” A sheepish look flickered over Tarquin’s face and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Actually, I was a bit jealous of Rhys, because I’m kinda into you. Well, was… am...”

“Oh!”

It was Feyre’s turn to blush, but she masked it with a big laugh, punching Tarquin’s shoulder lightly.

“Sorry, pal. Usually, I would say I don’t date colleagues, but well,”−Feyre couldn’t help her excited grin−,”seeing that I’ll be starting at Rhys’ company, that excuse is no longer valid, is it?”

After much thought and discussion, Rhysand had again extended a job offer to Feyre. Contrary to the times before, there had been no joking and banter involved. The whole media excitement about their relationship had had the most pleasant side effect of the name Velaris Inc. being thrown around a lot, unwittingly promoting the brand and generating new business endeavors for the company. Rhysand and his team were being swamped with requests and investment offers by people who couldn’t care less about what Rhys did at home but were very interested in what he did at work.

He needed someone for design, Feyre needed a new job, and Lucien needed to make sure, Feyre didn’t ensnare some other guy at her new job. And most of all, Rhys and Feyre needed Lucien to shut up and cease his whining.

Really, it was a win-win situation.

Enough so, that Feyre had decided to get over her resentment to mix business and pleasure and try working with her lovers. And in case that didn’t work, she would quit and look for a new job.

With a last friendly hug, Feyre waved Tarquin and her old job goodbye and took up her box. Dropping by HR, she handed over her keys and employee ID and then walked out of the building with a huge grin and her head held high.

From now on, things could only get better.

* * *

“I’m surrendering!”

Feyre held up her hands and pressed her lips firmly together, lest the food she had just shoved into her mouth for the last half hour made a comeback. She was stuffed like a turkey and about to explode. She couldn’t fit another morsel in if she tried.

Sevinda laughed and stacked Feyre’s empty plates on top of another. “I don’t think I ever defeated someone with my food.”

“Now this is a lie if I ever heard one,” Feyre moaned weakly and rubbed her swollen tummy.

She had been begging for mercy after the potato-and-carrot fritters with homemade tartar sauce, but Sevinda had still put out her infamous pork roast and several other dishes for Feyre to try. It had been torture to try withstanding the temptation to taste everything, as it had been torture to eat it.

The woman was the devil. A culinary devil.

Rhys had asked Feyre to check up on some of the food businesses that weren’t doing as well as they should. So far, Rhys hadn’t been able to figure what was supposedly wrong with the business, as the food was good, so he blamed it on the atmosphere and interior design and asked Feyre to take a look.

Unfortunately for her stomach, Feyre pursued a rather hands-on approach, which required her to eat her way through the menu at every single place she inspected. Her steadfast philosophy was that one could only design a wholesome concept when the flavors and feelings of the food were mirrored in the ambience of the place that served it.

It also meant, that she had been overeating for the last few days. After Sevinda’s abundant and ridiculously delicious food display, Feyre felt decidedly nauseous.

“So, after trying my food, where does the problem lie?”

Big, warm eyes gazed hopefully at Feyre, so she decided, it was best to be blunt.

“Your food is too good!”

Sevinda laughed. Sad to say, Feyre was serious.

“No Sevinda, I mean it. Your food is too good for a bar. This,” she pointed to the stack of empty plates, “holds a candle to every restaurant I’ve been to recently. And I mean, you know Rhysand, he sure knows how to pick the fancy ones!”

They shared a secret smile about Feyre’s very fancy boyfriend. Sevinda had known Rhys since he was ‘a wee lad’ as she had phrased it.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. How can my food be too good?” Sevinda asked, slightly confused. “I mean, if the food is good, then people come back, right?”

Feyre nodded. “That is true. But you said it yourself−you are running a bar. Your food, however, is what I would expect at a restaurant.” Feyre leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Imagine this: my friends and I decided to have a few drinks after work. We come here for a couple of beers. Because we came straight from work, we’re a bit hungry, so we hope for a snack or something small. What we don’t expect is a fantastic full meal. We are impressed, delighted even. We’ve never eaten something this good in a bar. So we decide to come back next time, because the food was so damn good and we are excited to try some of the other dishes.”

Sevinda smiled over the praise.

“So next time, we come here with the intention to eat. We are approaching this visit with the same expectations that we would have as if we were going to a restaurant. After all, we are here for the food.”

Feyre flashed Sevinda a little apologetic smile for what she was about to say.

“But this is not a restaurant, it’s a bar. So we will be disappointed that the quality of the service does not match the quality of the food. Or we will be annoyed about the volume of the conversation surrounding us and the casual atmosphere. Or we look past all that and gorge ourselves on spectacular food and enjoy the cozy atmosphere and order another beer and relax back on those cozy benches here,” Feyre patted the red velvet seats behind her. “In fact, we get so cozy, we won’t get up until you close. Which is bad, because we come early and stay until late. So this table, that in a restaurant would have been vacated after 2 hours and booked again, stays occupied.”

Sevinda’s warm, happy smile slowly vanished with every word Feyre spoke.

“I looked over your numbers,” Feyre announced, digging out her iPad. “I know I was only supposed to consult you on design, but I couldn’t resist looking at the whole picture. Your cost of sales is good, considering the quality of the food you serve, but your revenue is too low.”

“Rhys and Lucien said the same,” Sevinda said defeated. “But how do I raise the revenue? Raise the prices?”

When he had first offered Feyre to come work for him, Rhys had claimed he needed someone with a creative mind. Lucien had declared her lack of a traditional business background was Feyre’s strength. Her merit lay in her being unconventional.

So it was time to show them and everyone else, but mostly herself, what she could do.

Reaching over the table, Feyre patted the owner’s hand to cheer her up.

“I might have some ideas.”


	30. Chapter 30

“A tapas bar?”

“A tapas bar!”

Elain’s mouth formed a perfect pink _O_ and Cassian shook his head in disbelief.  

“Sevinda’s turning into a fucking tapas bar,” he grumbled. “You can’t be serious!”

Apparently, Sevinda’s place was something of an institution in the Nash household, so growing up there, Cassian had gotten to enjoy Sevinda’s cooking during his teenage years up. It also made him incredibly pig-headed about Feyre’s business proposal. Feyre hoped, Rhys didn’t proof to be equally stubborn about her plans. And then she wondered, how bossy exactly she could be with her boss, who was also her boyfriend.

Feyre gave her friend her best scowl. “Oh, I _am_ serious about this, Cass. If she continues like this, she’ll go under in a few months.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, but he still looked unconvinced. “And serving tapas will help?”

“Imagine this: yes!”

Cassian snorted and shook his head.

“I’m sorry Feyre, but I can’t imagine it either,” Elain piped up. “Could you explain a bit more in detail?”

Feyre raised her frothy Caramellito Latte and took a sip. It quickly proved to be a mistake, because her overstuffed stomach protested the intake of further food, even if it came in form of liquid sugar and steamed milk with a dash of coffee.

After her meeting with Sevinda, Feyre had met with Elain and Cassian, who she had invited to stake out her next project with her: a coffee shop. Though other than with Sevinda, Feyre hadn’t set an official meeting. She planned to observe the place like a first-time customer would to get a better feel for the place.

“I can’t tell Sevinda to cook less good, because, first of all, that would be a damn shame, and, secondly, I don’t think that’s even possible. Everything was just so friggin good.”

Feyre closed her eyes for a second, remembering the taste. She would need to go back there soon!

“The problem is, her food gives people the impression, they are at a high-class restaurant, but she’s still running a bar. So we need to tone it down a bit. In come the tapas. And I’m not talking classical Spanish tapas,” Feyre explained quickly before Cassian could interrupt her again. “I’m talking Sevinda’s dishes, downsized, so they can be served tapas style. You can order as many or as little as you like, share with friends or eat them all yourself. If you want a full meal, you can order starters, a main dish of meats and some veggie tapas as side dish and a desert. Or you just get one or two tapas as a snack to go along with your drinks.”

Cassian cocked his head, deep in thought. “That sounds nice, but I can’t really imagine it. Let’s take her pork roast, for example. How would you present that as a small dish?”

Feyre sighed sweetly, thinking back to the pork roast. “That pork roast is perfect!”

“Yeah, I know. But how would you make it into tapas?”

“No, I mean it is perfect for the concept!”

Feyre excitedly dug through her purse and pulled out her iPad, unlocking the screen. She put the device on the table, showing Elain and Cassian the hurried sketch she had drawn earlier.

“See? You make the dish into two tapas. One is only meat and sauce and the other is a bowl of roasted root vegetables. You can order them together or separately. Or you order something else to go along with the roast, maybe a potato salad. Alone, let’s the tapas range between 5 - 9 €. When you order meat and a side of veggie tapas together, you end up with a full dish and the price would be around what you would normally pay for a normal dish.”

“Only, people will tend to order more than two tapas, because the tapas look smaller than a full plate,” Elain mused.

Feyre grinned at her sister. “Exactly! Or they just order one or two. People are more flexible in what or how much they are eating this way, which makes it less like a restaurant−”

“And more like a bar,” Cassian finished. He looked impressed.

Feyre nodded eagerly. “Right. The atmosphere will be more relaxed. And Sevinda will have more choice to play with the menu that way. She can switch out certain tapas according to the season or what is available on the market at the moment. She said she liked to experiment and change the menu often.”

Cassian leaned back in his seat and raised his coffee for a toast. “Damn woman! That’s actually a very fine idea you’re having there. Although I’m still not convinced on the pork roast.”

“What’s with that pork roast?” Elain asked with a frown. “Is it really that good?”

“As Feyre said, it’s perfect.” Cassian let out a moan. “It’s rich and juicy and so tender, it melts in your mouth. Like, you don’t need to cut it with a knife, you can just pull it apart with your fork. And the sauce!” Cassian moaned again. “It tastes better than anything I ever tasted. Even better than Nesta’s kisses!”

Feyre was about to tell Cassian, he was being utterly ridiculous, but before she could, a strong wave of nausea rolled through her. Alarmed, Feyre slapped her hand in front of her mouth and fought to keep the vomit at bay.

“Feyre, you alright?”

Feyre shook her head at Elain and swallowed heavily. “Sorry, I might just have puked a little into my mouth,” she choked out.

Cassian rolled his eyes and Elain giggled.

“No, literally. It just came up.”

The playful expression was immediately wiped from their faces.

“Everything ok, Fey?” Cassian asked alarmed.

“Did you get knocked up by your _virile_ boyfriends perhaps?” Elain jested.

Feyre giggled weakly and shook her head, reaching for the water.

“Hey, this is my brother you are talking about, you sexist!” Cassian bellowed in mock indignation.

Feyre and Elain both giggled, but Feyre’s laugh was cut short by another wave of nausea. Moaning, she placed a hand on her churning stomach and pushed her milky coffee concoction a bit further away. Even the smell of warm milk and syrup, it seemed, was too much for her.

“The only baby I’m carrying is Sevinda’s food baby. I’m seriously stuffed. I don’t think I should eat or drink anything but water for the next few weeks,” Feyre declared weakly.

“I’ll let my brother and your other boyfriend know they should refrain from feeding you for a few days,” Cassian offered.

“Speaking of boyfriends and feeding, I should go soon. Lucien asked me to pick up some groceries on the way home.”

Craning her neck, Feyre looked for a waiter and then signaled for them to bring the check. But when Cassian and Elain pulled out their wallets to pay for their drinks, Feyre announced the drinks were on her. They were still protesting loudly when the waiter came over with the check, but Feyre dismissed their concerns with a wave of her hand.

“Please, I invited you here to help me with work, so coffee is on the company,” she declared confidently, slipping the waiter a credit card that Rhys had given her for business expenses.

“Not one week on the job and already misappropriating company money,” Cassian grumbled. “No wonder Prythian fired you!”

Seeing the waiter’s horrified expression, Elain fought hard to contain her giggle. Feyre’s lips twitched, barely managing to keep a straight face.  

“It’s not misappropriation if I declare it as expenses.”

Cassian raised his eyebrow mockingly. “Expenses for what?”

“Market research! You two are my testers.” With a smile to the waiter, Feyre accepted back the credit card and took the pen the waiter handed her to sign her receipt. “And I never needed to take money from Prythian. They gave it to me willingly to finally be rid of me.”

Cassian and Elain burst out laughing, completely throwing off the waiter, who cast highly nervous glances around the table while trying to be subtle about it. Feyre gave him back the pen with a wink and a generous tip and stowed away the receipt for the accountant.

They said their goodbyes outside and Feyre leisurely strolled towards her car, making good use of the opportunity to move her sluggish body. She still felt nauseous, but the movement and some fresh air helped.

However, by the time she reached the guys’ apartment, arms packed with groceries, her nausea had come back full force. Feyre barely managed to unlock the door and deposit her bags in the kitchen, when the urge to vomit hit her like a literal punch in the gut. Sprinting towards the bathroom, she managed to bend over the toilet just in time before everything she had eaten that day made its way forcefully into the porcelain bowl.  

With tears stinging in her eyes and bile stinging her throat, Feyre flushed the last of Sevinda’s now-not-so-delicious meal and sank back on the cold bathroom floor, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow. Something was off. She must’ve caught a stomach bug or something. Sure, she had overeaten today, but that shouldn’t have caused her to vomit like that. Feyre overate on a regular basis since she had started to practically live with her boyfriends. They cooked so damn well and sure liked spoiling her.

Leaning her head back against the tiled wall for a moment and closing her eyes, Feyre took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach. She still felt sick and the taste of vomit and bile in her mouth didn’t help the matter. But she didn’t want to get up and rinse her mouth just yet, too afraid that sudden movement would result in more retching.

“Feyre, are you home?” Lucien’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Too weak to answer, Feyre remained still and instead listened to Lucien make his way to the kitchen, cursing when he stumbled over the grocery bags she had merely dumped onto the floor before sprinting off. She heard the sound of opening and closing cabinets, the rustling of the paper bags and agitated steps flying around the kitchen and send a silent thank you to Lucien as he put the groceries away.

“Feyre?”

Forcing her eyes open, Feyre found Lucien standing in the open doorway, frozen in shock.

“Hey fox,” she greeted him faintly.

As she had feared, her stomach made a point of acting up with even the slightest movement of her body and Feyre scrambled to get on her knees again, bending once more over the toilet. Lucien immediately snapped out of his stupor to kneel beside her and pull back her hair from her face, but nothing but spit and bile came up. After suffering through a few painful waves of dry-retching, Feyre sunk exhausted against Lucien’s chest.

“Love, what happened?”

“Must have caught a bug. Or food poisoning. I visited some food places on Velaris’ list today.”

“And that included eating?”

With some effort, Feyre detached herself from Lucien and looked up into his face with a weak smile. “As you know, I follow a strict hands-on approach, be it with business or colleagues.”

Lucien didn’t look amused. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and on the couch.”

Pulling her up from the ground, Lucien helped Feyre over to the sink and only left when she assured him, she could manage to wash her face without him hovering over her like a helicopter. Threatening to be back in a second, Lucien went to their bedroom to fetch some comfortable clothes for Feyre to change into, while she splashed her face with some cold water and brushed her teeth.

But even after she had rinsed and spit the last vestiges of toothpaste into the sink, she still felt like she had a nasty taste in her mouth, so Feyre scoured the cabinets for some mouthwash she thought she had seen earlier this week. It wasn’t in the mirror cabinet, where she thought it had been, so she went through the cupboard under the sink−and froze.

“I hope these are alright? Yours are still in the laundry.”

As promised, Lucien was back in a flash, carrying a pair of soft grey sweatpants that looked like Rhys’ and a T-Shirt she liked to wear when she was over.

“Huh?”

Slowly, Feyre tore her gaze away from the cabinet and turned to Lucien. Her heart hammered heavily in her chest, pounding so hard, she could hear her blood thrumming in her ears, cancelling out all other sounds.

“The sweatpants? Yours are dirty. Will these be okay? They are a bit big.”

“Yeah sure.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed even further, noticing the open cabinet. “Are you looking for something, love?”

“Mouthwash. I need to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Oh, it’s empty. Rhys’ used the last of it yesterday. I put it on the shopping list. Didn’t you get any?”

“No. Yes?” Feyre couldn’t remember. “Didn’t you unpack the bags in the kitchen?”

“I only put away the things that need to be cooled.” Stepping closer, Lucien deposited the clothes on the now closed toilet seat and pressed a firm kiss to Feyre’s forehead. “I’ll go check.”

Feyre nodded, too preoccupied with her own thoughts than to really take in what Lucien was saying. As he left the bathroom, her gaze returned to the object that was the cause for the numbing fear that had settled over her.

A box of tampons.

Tampons she ought to use by now but didn’t.

Because her period hadn’t come.

_Did you get knocked up by your virile boyfriends perhaps?_

 


	31. Chapter 31

A fresh wave of nausea rolling up had Feyre clamp her lips shut and stop breathing altogether, until the sick feeling in her stomach ceased. Well, faded. In the week since her little pukefest, the nausea had never gone away completely. It was always there.

And Feyre was afraid, the nausea wasn’t the only thing, that was currently there, since her period wasn’t. On the contrary, it had stayed blissfully absent. And with every day her period decided to be a no-show, Feyre was freaking out a little bit more.

_Did you get knocked up by your virile boyfriends perhaps?_

Elain’s teasing voice in her head sounded more and more taunting each day. Not a day went by, when Feyre didn’t ask herself the same. She was frozen stiff in fear that it might be true.

_Did you get knocked up?_

What if it was true? What if she was really pregnant? What would she do if she was? She hadn’t lied when she had told Nesta, that she hadn’t thought much about whether or not she wanted children. So far, she never had a relationship that had been serious enough for her to consider that particular step. And she hadn’t been with her boyfriends long enough to have that talk about where their relationship was going. Sure, they told her, they wanted her for life, and she was practically living with them, but a baby?

_Knocked up._

She should really get a pregnancy test. But every time she had been standing in front of the shelfs in the drugstore that week, Feyre had faltered like the coward she was. She should take the test, so she’d know. But once she knew, she couldn’t unknow. What if the test came out positive? Then the suspicion and fears that were constantly gnawing at her brain wouldn’t be just that anymore - suspicion and fears - but reality.

_Knocked up._

What if Rhys and Lucien didn’t want children? What if they didn’t want children with _her._ Would they break up? Could she be a single mom? Did she want to be?

_Knocked up._

Should she get an abortion? Could she get through with one? Feyre pressed her hand against her lower stomach.

_Knocked up._

Feyre could feel the steady beat of a pulse pushing against her palm. Was that the baby? Certainly, it was too early to feel its heartbeat. Right?

_Knocked up._

Cauldron, what if --

“FEYRE!”

Feyre snapped back to attention and turned to her sister, who regarded her with much concern.

“Huh?” Feyre asked dumbly.

Nesta’s brows furrowed. “You spaced out midtalk. Where’s your head at?”

_Knocked up._

“Sorry, I just got a bit lost in thought,” Feyre hedged, plastering a fake smile on her face. Unfortunately, she didn’t fool her sister.

“Something’s wrong.”

Snorting, Feyre reached for her Coke and took a tiny sip, hoping the fizzy beverage would help to keep her stomach down. It usually helped, when she had a hangover, so it should do the trick now.

“No shit. How do you know?”

“You look terrible.”

“Gee, isn’t that what we all want to hear−that we look terrible? Seldom heard a better compliment,” Feyre joked weakly.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you sick? You look pale.”

Blowing out a huge sigh, Feyre leaned back on the couch and looked over to her sister. She had dropped by Nesta’s place for some much-needed sister time, but now she almost regretted coming. Nesta was like a bloodhound who had found a trail−she was impossible to shake off once she was onto something. So Feyre decided to feed her some half-truths.

“I’ve not been feeling well lately. Must be the stress.”

Nesta’s nostrils flares dangerously. “Did some gossip paper−”

“No, no! They didn’t!” Feyre hurriedly said. “You scared them off for good.”

Nesta looked fairly proud at that and reclined in her seat. But she kept eyeing Feyre with the subtlety of a high-pressure water blaster.

“I guess all the stuff that happened lately is catching up with me,” Feyre sighed.

She wasn’t even lying. Between the harassment from the public and her former coworkers, changing jobs and dodging paparazzi, the last weeks _had_ been stressful.

“Are you still getting hate mail?” Nesta asked. Her tone was uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah,” Feyre confessed. “But not as much, now that I changed my emails and have another work address.” Reaching for her Coke again, Feyre took another tentative sip. “You know, it’s actually not the hate mail that is bothering me all that much. What’s really getting to me are all the supportive mails people write.”

Setting down her drink, Feyre turned to her sister again, who watched her in inquisitive silence. Feyre shrugged a little helplessly.

“There are people, who tell me, what an inspiration and role model I am to them. How I’m getting the message out there, that there is more than monogamous relationships. That I and the guys should do more, be the voice of polyamory, tell our story to the world. Some people even ask for advice. Relationship advice!”

Wrapping her hands tightly around her body, Feyre hugged herself and took a shuddering breath.

“Who am I to give advice to anybody? I’m just a girl who fell in love with two wonderful people and got lucky they love me back.”

And considering she was currently in the middle of a major freakout over accidentally getting pregnant, she was definitely not someone who should counsel other people about their choices in life.

_Knocked up._

Screwing her eyes shut, Feyre took another deep breath, having to fighting down another wave of nausea that crawled up at the thought.

“I can’t tell people, how to best approach someone, or whether they should open their relationship to a third person _to spice things up_. All I know is that I love Lucien and Rhys and that I want to be with them. Preferably without the whole world making our relationship their business.”

“You shouldn’t need to!” Nesta snapped. “It’s not your responsibility to make other people comfortable about their lives.”

Feyre sighed and nodded. “I know. Still, those messages are hard to ignore.”

To her surprise, Nesta rose and came over to sit down beside her. Reaching out tentatively, Nesta took Feyre’s hand and cradled it between her own.

“What can I do?”

Swallowing the sudden lump that had formed in her throat, Feyre shook her head and brushed a kiss on her sister’s cheek.

_Other than buying a pregnancy test for me and forcing me to take it?_

“Nothing,” Feyre whispered, her throat raw. “There’s nothing you can do.”

* * *

“Feyre? Is that you, love?”

Feyre jumped and dropped her keys with a whispered curse. She had hoped that none of her boyfriends were at their apartment as she slinked in and out of it in search of her iPad that she had forgotten yesterday. Feyre hadn’t planned to meet them today. In fact, she had avoided both Lucien and Rhys as best as she could this week, staying mostly at her own place and declining dinner dates with weak excuses like work and needing to make time for her sisters.

She was especially uneager to run into one or both of them, when she was carrying around an obscene amount of pregnancy tests in her overstuffed purse. Because, you know, why buy one when you can buy 8.

“Hey there!”

Feyre smiled weakly at Lucien, who had just rounded the corner to come looking for her. The brilliant smile he flashed her had her feeling instantly guilty.

“Hey there yourself!” Lucien ate up the distance between them in a few hurried strides and gathered Feyre in his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. “So good to see you. I’ve missed you this week!”

“Right, sorry. Seems like I got a bit overzealous working. I wanted to make sure, I left an impression with my clients and the boss.”

Feyre’s weak attempt of an excuse seemed to have convinced Lucien, because he merely hummed in reply and proceeded to run his lips along her jaw until he reached a sweet spot right under her ear. Feyre shivered in delight upon the contact, but whatever pleasure she received from Lucien’s hungry lips was immediately destroyed when she remembered why she had deprived herself of her boyfriends’ company.

_Knocked up._

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over her, immediately sobering her up. Feyre shivered more violently, but luckily, Lucien seemed to chalk her reaction up as response to the open-mouthed kisses he now administered down her neck.

“I’d say it’s safe to assume, you needn’t leave an impression on your boss. Except for maybe the impression of your lips and fingers on his skin,” Lucien chuckled. “Rhys is a bit desperate for your carnal attention.” When he reached the junction of her neck and shoulder, Lucien bit down, coaxing a breathy moan from Feyre. “As am I. I miss having you in my bed, love.”

“Sorry,” Feyre breathed.

“Don’t be. You’re here now!”

Before she could stop him, Lucien’s hands dug into her backside and pulled her flush against him. Feyre’s shocked gasp turned into a moan when she felt Lucien’s erection digging into her stomach. Gosh, she had missed them too. But the eight little, rectangular packages in her purse were more pressing than the need to get naked with her lover right now.

“Lucien!”

Feyre laughed weakly and pressed her hands against Lucien’s chest to gently shove him away. When he wouldn’t let go, Feyre pressed harder.

“Lucien! Let go! I just came by to pick up my iPad!”

“No!” he growled and devoured her lips in a hungry kiss that caused her blood to heat. Desire spiked through Feyre, tempting her to give into his masterful seduction.

“Lucien, please!”

Hearing her pleading tone, Lucien drew back. If his scowl was anything to go by, he was less than pleased. The guilt over lying to him and Rhys hit Feyre like a blow, making her insides twist. But how could she tell him the truth?

Feyre reached up to cup his jaw. “I’m sorry. I promise, next week I’ll be less busy. But right now, I really need to go home.”

As gently as she could, Feyre pushed out of Lucien’s arms and hurriedly made her way to the living room.

“You know, you used to say this was home,” Lucien’s snarked behind her. “What changed?”

Feyre quickly scanned the living room and found her iPad on the table beside the couch, where she had left it to charge the last time she was over.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she declared, picking the device up and stuffing it into her overcrowded bag.

For a second, she was nervous that Lucien might see the pregnancy tests, but when Feyre turned, she found him leaning casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed in front of his chest, sporting a mighty scowl.

“You know exactly what I mean. Why are you avoiding us Feyre?”

“I’m not−”

“Don’t.” Lucien’s eye burned with anger. “Don’t lie to me Feyre. You haven’t slept over this week, you suddenly shoot us down when we ask you to come over for dinner, we don’t see you at work. And judging by your iPad charging here, you do come over, but only, when we are not here. What is going on, Feyre?”

“You are reading more into this than there is, Luce,” Feyre lied. “I told you, I’m just busy!”

Lucien produced a disbelieved snort. “Too busy to kiss me?”

Frowning, Feyre turned to him. “No, of course not!”

“Then why did you just stop?”

Lucien prowled closer, trying to pull her back into his arms, but Feyre quickly wiggled away. Lucien’s face clouded over and Feyre knew, she was busted. Seeking to flee rather than stay and engage, Feyre hastily made her way the door. She would talk to Lucien, and also Rhys, but she needed to know first. There was no reason to upset the two of them, when it was all false alarm anyways. With all the shit they had been dealing with lately, she couldn’t bear burdening them with this too.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

Feyre halted mid-step and turned to Lucien, who stood with his back facing her. The tense set of his shoulders alarmed her.

“No, of course not? Why would you think that?” Feyre tried to reassure him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucien scoffed. “Maybe, because you go out of your way to avoid me altogether.”

Wooed by her guilty conscience, Feyre walked back over to Lucien and hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blades. She needed to come up with a better excuse than being busy.

“That’s not it, fox. I just,” Feyre sighed, “I don’t feel good lately. I need some time for myself to unwind and relax.”

“You can’t relax with us?”

“That’s not it. I mean, yes, but I need some time to… think.”

Lucien turned around, eyeing her with suspicion. “About what?”

“Everything, I guess,” Feyre admitted. “So many things have happened lately, it’s kind of making my head spin.”

Lucien’s eye flared and then his mouth settled into a grim line. “Are you having doubts?”

Furrowing her brow, Feyre looked up into the stern face she loved so much. “About what?”

“Us.”

“No! Of course not!”

But Lucien didn’t look convinced. Cupping her face between his hands, he studied her face. “Feyre, if you’re having doubts over being with us−”

“ _Jesusfuckingchrist_! I just told you, that’s not it!” Feyre snapped, ripping Lucien’s hands away from her face. Him pushing for answers had Feyre immediately engage defensive mode.

“Well, I don’t know what your problem is, if you don’t talk to me!” Lucien snarled back.

“I just told you! I need time to myself! I’m feeling stressed and tired and sick.” And then she was hit with sudden inspiration. “And I don’t want you to touch me, cause I’m on my period and I feel gross and ache all over. The stress is adding to the pain. It hurts like a bitch!”

“Oh,” Lucien merely remarked.

“Yes, oh!”

Breathing heavily, they both assessed each other in silence. Feyre could still see some suspicion clouding Lucien’s features, but she attributed it more to his ever-evident self-doubt than him not believing her. She felt horrible for lying to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. How could she, when she herself wasn’t ready to face it?

The noise of the door unlocking behind her alarmed Feyre to Rhys returning home. She inwardly groaned. It was just her luck that after she had finally gotten one boyfriend more or less off her back and was about to head out, the other boyfriend had to return home.

“Feyre darling!”

Rhys’ apparent joy over finding her quickly dimmed, when he took in the air between Lucien and Feyre. With a frown, he eyed his partners. “What’s going on here?”

“Feyre just explained, why she has been avoiding us all week.”

Feyre threw Lucien a glare and found him flashing her a bitter smile. It had been a while, since she had seen one of those. She and Lucien hadn’t seriously gone at each other’s throat, since they resolved their little hate-love issue. But apparently, for Lucien, the discussion was not over yet.

“Did she now?” Rhys drawled.

Normally, he would’ve greeted Feyre with a kiss, but today, Rhys settled on putting his hands in his pockets and eyeing Feyre curiously. With startling clarity, Feyre realized, the two of them had been more bothered by her absence than she had assumed.

“Yeah. Our girlfriend is on her period and that makes her a bitch,” Lucien bit out, his eye gleaming maliciously.

“Shut it!” Feyre snapped harshly, baring her teeth at the redhead. Gosh, she had forgotten how vicious Lucien could be, if he wanted. And right now, he seemed to be spoiling for a fight.

Lucien mockingly raised an eyebrow at Rhys to drive home his point, but Rhys didn’t look at him. Instead, he frowned at Feyre.

“No, she’s not.”

Startled, both Lucien and Feyre looked at Rhys.

“Come again?” Lucien said.

“Feyre is not on her period,” Rhys declared, his frown deepening as levelled a searching gaze at Feyre.

“How do you know?” Lucien asked.

Finally, Rhys tore his eyes from Feyre and turned to Lucien.

“Feyre uses an app to track her period. There’s an option to share the calendar with other people, so when Feyre starts her period, I get a notification. I like to know when she starts her, so I can make sure we have enough supplies and painkillers around. I didn’t get one, so, unless she has forgotten to mark the beginning of her period, which I doubt, cause she’s usually really meticulous when it comes to that, she not having her period right now.”

With every word than Rhys spoke, Feyre could hear her heart beating harder in her ears. She looked to Lucien and found him looking at her. When she saw how hard and completely closed off his face was, Feyre knew, she had screwed up big time. He knew that she had been lying to him. But when Rhys started speaking again, Feyre thought, she might be sick.

“Actually, I can’t remember, when I’ve gotten the last notification. Wait, let me check.”

Rhys pulled out his phone and unlocked it, tapping at the screen.

_He will know,_ Feyre realized. _He will know and then everything will go to crap_.

She needed to run, to get out. She couldn’t bear seeing the disappointment in his eyes. But her feet were frozen to the ground. And then, when Rhys’ first frowned at the screen and then went preternaturally still before raising his head in disbelief, Feyre saw something that was much worse than disappointment−hope.

“Feyre,” Rhys breathed.

Feyre desperately shook her head, backing away slowly.

“What is it?” Lucien asked in alarm.

Rhys didn’t answer but started toward her. “Feyre, is it what I think it is?”

“No!” she cried out, holding out her hands as if to ward him off. “It’s not. Don’t… please don’t say anything!”

“Rhys! What is it!” Lucien bellowed, rapidly growing irritated.

“Feyre are you pre−”

“DON’T!”

Both Rhys and Lucien started at Feyre’s loud shriek, staring at her in shock. Trembling like a leaf in the wind, Feyre retreated towards the door.

“I can’t…,” Feyre choked out, “I can’t do this anymore.”

And before the tears could fall, Feyre ran out.


	32. Chapter 32

The downside to having two very caring and occasionally pissed off boyfriends, who also happen to work with you, was, that avoiding them was sheer impossible. Not that Feyre didn’t try.

At least it was the weekend, so Feyre had a two-day reprieve to work out how exactly she could get out of being confronted by them at work. After her mini meltdown, which involved fleeing their apartment as if she was chased by a crazy ax murderer, Feyre had ignored all calls and texts from both Lucien and Rhys. Knowing they would likely show up at her apartment, Feyre had pondered her options.

Seeking refuge at Nesta’s had seemed like the worst possible decision she could’ve made in her life. It was right up there with deciding to forgo condoms and switching to birth control. Feyre should have known she’d end up pregnant, since she was an absolute scatterbrain and couldn’t stick to taking that damn little pill on a schedule if her life depended on it. Throw in two boyfriends, lots of sex−congratulations, you (possibly) created another human being!

Had she gone to Nesta’s, there would have been no way her sister would have stopped pestering her with silent, demanding stares until Feyre confessed every little thing, including her current predicament. And since her overprotective and volatile sister was still coming to terms with Feyre’s polyamorous relationship as it was, hearing that her boyfriends might have impregnated her baby sister after a mere 6 months of dating would’ve likely resulted in Nesta making sure, Lucien and Rhys would never father another child during their lifetime.

Also, hiding at Nesta’s increased the possibility of running into Cassian, and as of late, Feyre didn’t knew where her friend’s allegiance lay−with her or his recovered foster brother.

So Feyre had settled on the next best option: her equally protective, but less volatile sister Elain.

When she had shown up without warning at Elain’s door, she had known, she had made the right decision. Elain had taken one look at her disheveled state and tear-stained face and let her in without comment. She had led Feyre to her couch, pushed her down on it and went to brew her a cup of soothing chamomile tea, which Feyre had drunk in tiny sips and in between sobs. When Feyre had confessed to feeling nauseous, Elain had brewed her another cup of tea, this time ginger, which Feyre had drunk while nibbling on some homemade bread.

After she had calmed down enough to be able to speak without sobbing, Elain had asked, whether Feyre wanted to talk about what was bothering her. When Feyre shook her head, Elain had given her a hug, taken the cup out of her hands, and had pulled Feyre towards her bedroom, where she had pushed her under the covers of her own bed and had snuggled up beside her. This gentle and silent support had been exactly what Feyre had needed and exhausted as she was both emotionally and physically, she had immediately fallen asleep.

All Feyre had wanted was some damn peace and quiet to think about the mess she had made and how to best approach her boyfriends about the problem of a potential offspring. And maybe finally take a fucking pregnancy test. After all, she carried around enough to provide for a whole busload of distressed woman.

But when she had woken up the next morning, the grace period had been over.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but you should definitely talk to the boys,” Elain commented lightly while she arranged a bouquet, looking as cheery and carefree as if she was bundling together a bunch of wildflowers she had picked on a meadow instead of creating a freaking ikebana masterpiece that probably cost several hundred bucks in material alone.

Sometimes, Feyre really wondered how two hot headed and stubborn people like Nesta and her could be related to someone sweet as Elain, who could handle such delicate things as flowers and create the most stunning arrangements without breaking them. Then again, Feyre herself wasn’t bad when it came to painting, and Feyre knew Nesta secretly wrote brilliant short stories in her spare time. Elain might have a more mellow temper than her and Nesta, but creativity was undoubtedly an Archeron trait.

“I will talk to them… eventually,” Feyre hedged and toyed with the stem of a Gerbera daisy.

Since she hadn’t wanted to wallow in self-pity alone, Feyre had followed Elain to her flower shop this morning. After all, keeping herself busy had seemed better than drowning in her rising panic in Elain’s apartment. Only, Feyre was absolute shit when it came to arranging bouquets, so rather than helping Elain, she was keeping her elder sister company and occasionally manned the shop counter, while Elain kept working on some huge commission centerpieces for a wedding in the back.

With a heavy sigh, Elain turned to her and regarded her with sorrowful eyes.

“I like them, you know?” she began, observing Feyre closely. “I mean, your relationship might not the most conventional one there is, but Lucien and Rhys are wonderful people. And you seem so happy with them. Whatever it is that caused this argument you seem to have, don’t let it ruin what you have with them.”

Feyre hastily slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob that was dying to escape. She was, wasn’t she? Ruining her relationship with the most amazing and incredible people ever, because she was afraid of their reaction. Instead of confiding in them and leaning on them, she had pushed them away and ran.

“Oh my god, what am I doing?”

Putting down the flower she was holding, Elain came over to Feyre, pulling her head down to her shoulder and rubbing her shoulders. “Call them. Better, go to them. Talk with them. I’m sure, this is nothing you can’t solve together.”

Feyre shook her head and wrapped her arms tighter around Elain. “But I’m so scared Elain,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“Of what?”

Of the eight packages of pregnancy tests currently sitting in her purse on the stool just behind her, which she hadn’t dared open yesterday. The glimmer of hope she imagined she had seen sparkle in Rhys’ beautiful eyes yesterday, when he had confronted her about her period. The dark look on Lucien’s face at the same time. Of hearing, they wanted the child, if there was one. Of hearing, they didn’t.

“Knowing!”

Elain opened her mouth, probably to ask her to elaborate, but just then the doorbell jingled, announcing a customer had entered. Pushing out of her sister’s arms, Feyre ran her hands over her face and plastered a fake smile on her face to serve whoever had just come in.

“Feyre, let me−”

“No, it’s fine,” Feyre assured Elain and waved over to the centerpiece Elain had been working on. “Go finish that. I’m good.”

With a smile that she hoped looked reassuring, Feyre stepped out of the back into the store−and froze like a deer in headlights at the sight of her boyfriends.

They stood in the middle of the store, their attention fixed on her like a tractor beam. Lucien’s face was impassive and hard, while Rhys’ eyes roamed all over her, probably checking, whether she was in one piece. But when his gaze connected with hers, Feyre balked at the intensity of his glare. They were angry. Both of them. Really angry!

Feyre nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears and averted her gaze. “How did you know I would be here?”

Lucien’s nostrils flared when he inhaled, and Rhys’ brows drew together. But before either of them could lash out at her, a soft voice spoke from behind.

“I let Luce know that you showed up at my place yesterday.” Feyre whirled around to give her sister her best glare. Elain met her gaze unflinchingly. “They were so worried about you, Fey. Can you blame me?”

“Traitor!” Feyre grumbled, but she couldn’t be angry with Elain. Had Lucien or Rhys ran away, ignoring her calls, she too would’ve at least liked to know they were safe.

Lucien stepped forward, but instead of going to Feyre, he gave her the wide berth, going over to Elain. To Feyre, it felt like a slap in the face, though one, she probably deserved. With a faint smile, Elain looked up to Lucien and handed him Feyre’s purse, which she had brought with her from the back.

“Go easy on her please,” Elain requested softly.

“I’ll try,” Lucien sighed and then bend down to press a kiss to her Elain’s cheek. “Thank you, Lanie!”

The exchange left Feyre feeling strangely jealous. Not because of the kiss per se, but because Lucien was being nice to Elain despite his dark mood.

_Which you only have yourself to blame for_ , Feyre scolded herself.

A hand wrapping around her wrist had Feyre turn her attention from Lucien and Elain to Rhys. The way he stared down at her gutted Feyre and had her stifle another sob. Yes, he looked angry, but Feyre could also see the sadness and hurt swirling in his midnight-blue eyes. Knowing that her cowardice was the reason he looked like that, shattered her heart.

“We are going home,” he announced in a gravelly voice and Feyre knew better than to protest.

With a quick thanks and goodbye to Elain, who smiled at her encouragingly, Feyre followed meekly as Rhys pulled her out of Elain’s flower shop towards his car. Lucien followed closely behind. Neither man spoke to her on their way home and Feyre didn’t attempt to address them, resulting in a tension that could’ve been cut by knives. 

Only when they had reached the guys’ apartment and the front door closed behind them, did Feyre dare speak.

“Listen, I’m−”

She was immediately cut off by Rhys, who pressed his lips hard against hers in a violent and desperate kiss.

“Dont. You. Ever!” he growled between kisses before crushing her tightly against his chest. “Don’t you ever pull shit like that again! Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Feyre took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry! I panicked!” she tried to explain, but Rhys only hugged her harder and went on.

“You think you can break up with us like and then run away? This relationship is not over!” he declared with a growl. “Not as long as I have a say in this!”

_Break up with them?_ Feyre began shaking her head violently. _No, no, no!_ They must have interpreted her words wrongly. There was no way she would break up with them, ever!

“No, listen, I didn’t −”

“And especially not, when it involves a baby. Our baby,” Lucien added. His voice was soft, but chilling. It cut right through her.

_Shit!_ _Of course they had come to the right conclusion._

Feyre’s eyes widened in shock as she trained her gaze on Lucien. He was standing a bit off the side, his face dark. It hurt to see that he wouldn’t come close to her.

“Lucien…”

“Are you pregnant?”

Unable to bear holding Lucien’s gaze, Feyre dropped her eyes to the floor. She couldn’t stand looking either him or Rhys in the eyes.

“I don’t know,” she admitted nervously.

“But you suspect you are,” Rhys provided.

Feyre nodded and then bit down on her bottom lip, that had been quivering dangerously. She couldn’t break out in tears. She didn’t deserve to.

“I’ve been feeling nauseous for more than a week now. I’m dizzy all the time. I’m two weeks over,” Feyre listed in a choked whisper.

Rhys’ arms around her relaxed a fraction and Feyre felt Rhys lean back enough so he could peer down. Reluctantly, she raised her face to look at him. The hurtful expression he sported hit her right in the gut.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Don’t you trust us?”

Rhys’ question, filled with so much pain and disappointment, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Feyre dissolved into a mess of tears and sobs, clutching his shirt between her clenched fists and crying her heart out.

Rhys remained still, rubbing a hand up and down her back, but he wasn’t as forthcoming as usual. There was a stiffness to him, which usually wasn’t there. He was still angry, Feyre realized. He was comforting her, but he wasn’t forgiving her. The realization only made her cry harder, until she was choking on air and starting to panic.

A firm hand on her back joined Rhys’, exuding warmth and solace.  “Breathe, love,” Lucien instructed gently, rubbing her shoulders.

Feyre tried to take a breath, but the air refused to enter her lungs. “Breathe,” Lucien demanded again, pressing his chest against the whole length of her spine and drawing Rhys closer, so Feyre was pressed between both of their chests. “Focus on me and Rhys. Can you feel, how our chests expand? In and out. In and out. Breathe for us, love.”

_In and out_. Feyre buried her face against Rhys’ chest, feeling the fall and rise of his chest and the weight of Lucien’s against her back. _In and out._ The warm press of their bodies against hers, the steady rhythm of their breaths and heartbeats had Feyre’s own erratic heartbeat slow and her breathing ease. Slowly, steadily, she began drawing air into her lungs and calming down.

Once she was calm and the adrenaline rush subsided, Feyre was hit with the full extent of her exhaustion. She slumped heavily against Rhys, suddenly unable to keep herself upright.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her words sounded slurred to her own ears. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was breaking up with you. I love you. I’m never breaking up with you!”

Without another word, Lucien picked Feyre up and carried her towards their bedroom.

“I’m so angry at you, Fey!”

Feyre closed her eyes and leaned her head against Lucien’s shoulder, another tear stealing down her cheek.

“I know.”

“You scared the hell out of us.”

“I’m sorry. I know.”

Lowering her onto the bed, Lucien took a seat at the edge of the mattress. His face was stormy, but his touch was gentle when he pushed her down by her shoulders and motioned for her to lie down. Rhys, strolling in behind them, remained standing next to the bed, hands buried deep in the pocket of his slacks.

“I think it’s time you talked to us, darling.”

* * *

They had talked, they had cried, and then they had kissed and made up, but when Feyre glanced over to Rhys, who was nervously pacing the room, and Lucien, who sat next to her on the bed, but refused to look at her, she knew it would take some time before she would be forgiven completely.

But that was the price she had to pay for not trusting the two people she should have trusted over all else with her problems and Feyre was more than willing to pay it. Only now, it seems, did she fully comprehend the full extent of their relationship.

This was it. This thing that had started out as a _dodgy little mess_ was her once in lifetime. Her forever. Her happily ever after.

And she would be well advised not to fuck it up.

“I love you two,” Feyre said softly, looking at her hands, which she was nervously wringing in her lap.

She heard Rhys halt his pacing and a hand entered her field of vision, cupping hers. Feyre looked up to Lucien, who regarded her with a surprising fondness she hadn’t expected. A second later, Rhys dropped to his knees in front of her, laying his hands over theirs.

“I love you too, Feyre. You and Lucien. No matter the outcome, please know that I love the two of you more deeply and more fiercely than I have ever loved anything or anyone in my life.” Rhys’ eyes sparkled dangerously and Feyre felt her heart grow tight the same time Lucien tightened his hold on her hands. “To me, you two are everything. You own my heart and my soul. So when you leave like you did, you tear away a part of myself, and it’s leaving me open and broken and wounded.” Reaching up, Rhys cupped her face and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “So please be careful with what you do with my heart, darling.”

With a choked sob, Feyre bend forward and pressed her lips to Rhys’, pouring all her feelings for her beautiful man into the contact. Rhys slipped his hand around her head, cupping the back of her neck and holding her close even after the kiss ended, and leaned her forehead against his.

“Don’t leave me, Feyre,” he whispered. “Don’t leave us.”

“Never,” she promised hoarsely.

Turning their heads at the same time with their foreheads still connected, they looked at Lucien. The look he gave them was so vulnerable, Feyre wanted to wrap him in their arms and never let him go. So she freed one of her hands and pulled Lucien closer, until his forehead connected with theirs.

“I already lost someone I love once. I can’t bear to go through that again.”

“Luce,” Feyre sobbed and then caught his lips with hers. “I’m here. For good.”

“As am I,” Rhys added and then pressed another kiss to Lucien’s lips.

The ring of the timer interrupted their moment and they all shared a nervous look before hurrying to the en suite bathroom, where all eight pregnancy tests were laid out on the bathroom counter, waiting to be inspected.

“So, how do we go about this?” Rhys asked nervously.

“Everybody grab one and check?” Feyre suggested. She was excited in the most negative sense.

“Okay,” Lucien nodded. “On the count of three, grab a stick. One - two - three!”

Feyre snatched up the test stick closest to her, but before peeking at the result window, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_Come on, Archeron, you can do this!_

“Wait, what does one line mean again?” Lucien asked in confusion.

Feyre snapped her eyes open and peered down at the test she was holding. _One line._ Earth shattering relief coursed through her and she dropped the stick, sinking down to the ground with a huffed laugh. Lucien immediately crouched down beside her and drew her into his arms.

“Feyre? Love? Are you alright?”

“Not pregnant,” Rhys declared, sinking on his haunches beside them.

Lucien’s head snapped up. “What?

“One line, not pregnant,” Rhys repeated. “And in case that’s not clear enough, mine even says it in words.” He turned around the test stick he was holding, so they could see the little display announcing, ‘not pregnant’. “See? No baby.”

Feyre noticed, how sad Rhys sounded. But when she turned to him, he smiled at her.

“Oh god,” Feyre moaned and then buried her face in her hand. “Oh thank god!”

She was so relieved, she didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. But at the same time, she felt a tiny stab of disappointment. Which was ridiculous, considering how even the possibility of carrying a child had had her freaking out the past week. But somewhere, in a far corner of her mind, if even only for a second, she had entertained the idea of raising a child between the three of them.

Warm lips pressed were pressed to her head soothingly and two set of hand stroked over her back. Lucien whispered something, and Rhys answered, but Feyre could barely make out what they said. She was still reeling with the revelation of not being pregnant.

“No, they all say negative.”

“Still, we should get her to a doctor, just to be sure. I mean, she was throwing up badly last week.”

“You mean, she’s sick?”

“Well, again, she _was_ throwing up last week.”

“Feyre, darling, can you get up? Will you be sick? Do you need a water or something?”

“Maybe, we should get her on the bed first, babe. It’s probably the shock.”

Slowly, Feyre raised her head. Lucien and Rhys peered worriedly down at her.

“I’m not pregnant,” she stated absentmindedly.

“No, love, you are not,” Lucien said patiently.

Turning to Rhys, Feyre asked, “Did you want me to be?”

She might not have been pregnant, but the silence that followed sure was. Rhys blinked a few times, opening his mouth to answer, only to close it again. And then, a soft smiled played around his lips. Coupled with the somber look in his eyes, it was bittersweet.

“I wouldn’t have minded terribly if you were, to be honest,” Rhys admitted quietly.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Feyre said equally quiet, lowering her head.

“No darling, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Lucien was noticeably quiet, so Feyre turned to him. “What about you, fox?”

“Well, I’m not gonna lie,” Lucien began, and Feyre assumed, he was happy about her not being pregnant, but then he said, “I would have been fucking ecstatic, had you been pregnant.”

Rhys’ jaw hit the floor and Feyre was equally gobsmacked. “What?”

Lucien shrugged and then smiled his sharp smile. “I love kids. And I want a ton of them. Like, a whole team would be great.”

_A team? What kind of team? Basketball? Baseball? Soccer?_ Feyre was stunned. Where did this come from? Lucien had never seemed particularly fond of children. Rhys, with his nurturing, domestic tendencies? Sure. But Lucien? Family-issue-Lucien? _I have a family I don’t speak to_ -Lucien?

Feyre exchanged a look with Rhys, who gazed dazedly at Lucien. Okay, so she was not the only one who had been completely blindsided by this revelation.

“Alcohol,” Feyre whispered to Rhys. “Kitten, we need alcohol. Lots and lots of it!”

Rhys only managed a weak nod but didn’t get up from the floor.

Lucien, unconcerned by their obvious shock, prattled on. “Actually, how come we never talked about this? I feel this is something we should have talked about already, right? Do you guys even want kids?”

He looked expectantly at Rhys, clearly expecting an answer. “Uhm,” Rhys said with a quick side glance to Feyre. “Eventually, sure. At some point, kids would be great.”

Lucien nodded and then turned his attention to Feyre. The eager look in his eyes had her heart melt. “What about you, love? Do you want kids?”

Did she want kids? Hell, she had been spending all of last week thinking about that, freaking out about being pregnant. But that had been, because she had been caught unaware and had never actually talked about the possibility of children with Lucien and Rhys, hadn’t it?

Feyre was still musing about this, when a strong wave of nausea hit her. Hastily crawling towards the toilet, she retched violently.

_Shit!_

Now that she knew she wasn’t pregnant, her continuous nausea and vomiting took on a threatening quality. Something was wrong. Terribly so! Feyre felt her anxiety rise higher with every wave of sick that hit the toilet. She couldn’t breathe, her nose was stuffed and her throat tight from crying and retching.

_What is wrong with me?!_

A wet washcloth pressed into her neck distracted Feyre from her spiraling. Another one wiped the sweat from her brow that had started to break out the second she had begun heaving. Lucien’s voice floated to her ear as he murmured soothing nothings to her and cleaned her face with gentle wipes as best as he could.

“Okay, we need to go see a doctor. NOW!” Rhys bellowed, panic lacing his voice.

When they were sure she was no longer throwing up, strong hands helped her up and carried her out of the bathroom. Feyre could hear Rhys barking orders into his phone, probably alerting his doctor about their immediate arrival, while Lucien held her close, brushing his lips over her forehead.

“Don’t worry, love. We got you!”

Feyre nodded weakly and closed her eyes. It was time to give in and let her men take care of her.


	33. Chapter 33

As it turned out, Feyre’s nausea and vomiting were caused by a stomach ulcer, which again had been caused by an overuse of ibuprofen. The continuous stress and tension of the last weeks had resulted in almost constant headaches, which Feyre had tried to chase away with a pill or two each day, not considering the number of drugs she was swallowing. And the delay in her period? Well, her go-to excuse of blaming it on the stress had actually been point on−she was late due stress.

Rhys’ very calm and patient doctor had assured her, that her ulcer was a mild case that could easily be treated with the right medication and some bed rest, and had then released Feyre into the care of a brooding Lucien and a very freaked-out Rhys, who bundled her up and hauled ass back to their place, where they kept their girlfriend confined to the couch in the living room.

Feyre was under strict orders not to move even her little finger. She had rolled her eyes so hard her head hurt and asked, if she was at least allowed to use the bathroom of her own, which had earned her a nasty glare from both men and Rhys informing her, that he had no qualms about forcing her to use a bedpan.

Forced to remain still, Feyre was gimlet-eyed with envy, as her boyfriends carefully sipped whiskey out of fancy crystal tumblers while watching her like hawks.

“Can I just have a little si−”

“Don’t you even dare finishing that sentence!” Lucien growled.

“The doctor was very clear about what you can and cannot have,” Rhys drawled, taking another sip. “And I can’t have you being sick, darling, so no whiskey for you!”

Feyre scowled, but Rhys and Lucien didn’t waver. Sighing, she gave up and allowed herself to relax.

“I guess I’m not allowed to work either.”

“Damn right you aren’t!” both Lucien and Rhys exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged a surprised look and then grinned, bumping their fists.

Annoyed, Feyre rolled her eyes. “Chill daddies, I’ll stay put!”

The way her boyfriends froze made her realize what she’d said. Regretting her thoughtlessness, Feyre bit down on her lip. She had gotten out of answering their question about future children by being violently sick, but she couldn’t not give them an answer.

Lucien gave her a stiff smile and downed the rest of his drink, looking clearly rattled. Rhys however, studied her closely. He had always been able to read her better than Lucien, so he knew something was coming. But instead of pestering her, he waited patiently for her to come forward. So Feyre sucked in a breath, steeling herself.

“About what you said earlier about having kids,” Feyre began hesitantly. “Right now, I can’t see myself as a mother. I mean, we haven’t been dating that long. And there is so much happening already… If we were to have a child, I’m pretty sure, I’d die of stress or exhaustion or something like that.”

Lucien and Rhys nodded, but they couldn’t hide the slight disappointment that crept into their features.

“Right,” Rhys amended, “Not to mention, with all the media attention still on us, the gossip papers would go batshit crazy, if they spotted Feyre with a baby bump.”

“But maybe,” Feyre proposed tentatively and both men perked up, “we could try for kids in a few years?”

A choked sob escaped Lucien and he stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

Feyre felt her lips stretch into a wide smile as she nodded and looked to Rhys, finding him mirroring her smile. The radiant joy she saw in his eyes made her heart flutter and strengthened her decision. “Yes, I am sure.”

Lucien stood and came over, flopping down on the couch next to her. Cupping her face between his hands, he forced her to look at him.

“Feyre, are you for real? You’re willing to have babies with me? With us?”

“Eventually? Yes!”

“Like, really? Babies? Ours?”

Feyre laughed, unable to hold back her joy. “Yes, Lucien. I’m very willing to have babies with you and Rhys. But not right now. In a few years,” she reminded him, raising her pointer finger to drive home her point.

“Now, later, what does it matter. We’re making babies.” Lucien swallowed her happy grin with a hungry kiss before he jumped up and began pacing, suddenly filled with an excitement he couldn’t contain.

“We’re going to start a family!” he hollered like a maniac.

“In a few years, fox!”

“A huge family!” Lucien continued, completely dismissing Feyre’s objection. “A whole dynasty!”

“Geez, I already regret agreeing to it!”

Undeterred, Lucien stormed out of the room, only to turn back in the hallway and come back immediately.

“We need a bigger place to live! There is not enough room for all the kids I want,” he declared. “I mean, the guest room can function as a nursery the first two can share, but after that, we need more space.”

“The _first_ two? Cauldron, would you please relax, Luce?” Feyre sighed. “I think 8 pregnancy tests have made it clear that I’m not pregnant yet!”

The couch next to her dipped under Rhys’ weight as he sat down next to her and drew her in his arms, dropping a soft kiss to her head. “Let him be excited, darling. You just made his dream come true!”

Feyre shook her head with a soft laugh and then pulled Rhys’ head down to her, fusing their mouths in a passionate kiss.

“And yours? Did I make your dream come true too?” Feyre asked breathily when she pulled away.

Rhys bend forward to steal another quick kiss. “Children or not, my dream already came true the moment you and Lucien decided to be mine.”

Feyre’s chest constricted and for the tiniest moment, her heart stopped beating, only to resume it’s beat harder and faster than before.

“You’re such a smooth talker,” she mumbled, blushing heavily.

“So they say,” Rhys replied with a smirk. “Which is actually convenient, because I’m planning to smooth-talk you into finally moving in with us.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. Think about it. All the money you’ll save by not having to pay rent. Not to mention, that you’ve been practically living here anyways, when you’re not actively avoiding us.” Rhys whispered a tender kiss over Feyre’s cheekbone. “This apartment here comes fully furnished, including two very handsome and sexy boyfriends / housekeepers / sex slaves. All for the price of your love and nothing else.”

Feyre giggled and turned her head, brushing her lips with Rhys’. “I’m not a fan of slavery, but housekeepers? Does that include laundry service?”

“Laundry service, cooking, orgasms on demand−whatever you need from me, darling,” Rhys purred and deepened the kiss, until Feyre was left breathless.

“Well then, I guess I better move in!”

A heavy weight suddenly settled on Feyre’s back when Lucien joined them on the couch, effectively sandwiching her between her two men.

“I love you!” Lucien announced, alternating between pressing sweet kisses onto Rhys’ and Feyre’s faces and heads. “I love you so fucking much!”

Laughing happily, Feyre leaned back until her head rested on Lucien’s shoulder while he attacked Rhys’ lips with one of his biting, ferocious kisses.

“As much as I hate to admit it, and despite you still being an incredible pain-in-my-ass, Vanserra, I love you too! You and that unfairly dashing specimen we call our boyfriend!”

They gave her no warning before they attacked her too and kisses rained down on her face, courtesy of two smiling mouths. They giggled and blubbered through their kisses, until all three of them were breathless and exhausted and their bodies lay entangled like one giant pretzel on the couch. Calming her breath, Feyre listened to whoever’s heart was currently beating in the ribcage under her cheek, while nimble fingers stroked through her hair. She could’ve checked, but Feyre was too tired and relaxed to care and her eyes were closed.

“Hey Feyre,” Lucien suddenly asked.

The voice had come from behind her, while the chest beneath her still fell and rose steadily, so it was Rhys she was currently using as a pillow.

“Hm?”

She felt Lucien shift behind her and soft lips pressed against her neck. And then, a sharp, well known canine bit into her skin. Feyre protested with a grumble and Lucien’s laugh washed over the column of her neck.

“When you say a few years, how many years exactly are we talking about?”

* * *

“I hate you. I HATE YOU! BOTH OF YOU!” Feyre cried, closing her eyes and grinding her teeth to fight through the pain that seized her body.

Her jaw hurt from how hard she had been clenching her teeth together to endure the torture her body was currently subjected to.

“Easy now, love. You almost have it!” Lucien said, trying to calm her. Feyre threw him a nasty glare that had him blanch. “Please don’t cry,” he pleaded desperately, when a tear stole from her eye and slid down her cheek.

“It’s your fucking fault I’m hurting,” she spat out before another wave of pain rendered her unable to speak.

She tightened her grip on Rhys’ hand, squeezing his fingers with bone-crushing force. Feyre was sure, she was hurting him, but he endured her vice-like grip on his hand in silence like he had for the last couple of hours.

“Breath, darling. Deep steady breaths. Just a couple of seconds more, and it’s over.” Rhys purred into her ear, wiping some sweat from her forehead with a tissue.

Throwing her head back on the headrest behind her, Feyre closed her eyes and tried to do as Rhys had instructed, but the pain was too much. She was about to faint.

“I don’t know why I ever agreed to this,” Feyre bit out between clenched teeth. “If I’d known how much it hurts…”

“Feyre, love, you can’t quit now! Only one more minute and you’ve done it!”

“You’re almost there, darling!”

“Push through the pain, love. Push!”

“By the Wyrd, is someone giving birth in here?”

The whirring that had been driving Feyre nuts stopped and a dark, rumbling laugh cut through her boyfriends encouraging cries when the white-haired man with the wicked tattoo on one side of his face, who had been silently working on Feyre’s hand, straightened and turned towards a tall, blond woman who had come up to their tattoo station.

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it,” he said and pecked a kiss to the woman’s lips after she bent down and presented her face. Rowan. His name was Rowan, Feyre remembered. The pain of getting a tattoo had fogged her mind to the point that she had forgotten.

“My wife Aelin,” Rowan introduced and then returned his attention to Feyre’s ring finger. “I just need a few more seconds to finish these lines and then we’re done Feyre. Is that cool with you?”

_No,_ was her immediate reaction, but looking down on the work Rowan had done so far, she could see, he was telling the truth. It would take only a few more lines, and Feyre’s left ring finger would be adorned with the same design that Rhys and Lucien wore proudly on theirs.

“I’m good. Keep going,” Feyre nodded and sucked in a deep breath in preparation of the pain that she knew was about to come.

She didn’t remember whose stupid idea it had been, but after getting drunk off their ass on their one-year anniversary as a couple, they had decided to get matching ring tattoos.

Since they couldn’t marry legally, and Feyre also didn’t care as much about getting married in the first place, she had shot down the idea of getting matching wedding bands when Rhys had proposed it. She didn’t want the two of them to be constantly being mistaken as her husbands, only to explain to people how things really were.

Lucien and Rhys, they were hers. Not her husbands, or boyfriends, or lovers−just hers. Her men.

But as much as Feyre rejected the thought of rings, the idea of having a symbol of some sort visibly linking the three of them to each other had appealed to her. So one of her idiots had come up with the idea of tattooing their ring fingers instead. And because she was an even bigger idiot than them, she had said yes.

“Okay, we are done!” Rowan announced after a few seconds and Feyre almost cried with relief.

Rowan’s wife came around the table and curiously watched as Rowan cleaned off the excess ink and wrapped the tattoo. “Ohhh, that’s such a cool design,” Aelin cooed, snatching up Feyre’s hand to inspect the work before Rowan wrapped her finger in clear wrap for protection.

“Isn’t it?” Rhys asked proudly and dropped a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“Feyre came up with it for us,” Lucien explained to Aelin, holding up his own hand, so Aelin could see his wrapped finger.

Aelin’s gaze bounced to Rhys’, noticing that his hand was wrapped too. Nervous anticipation stabbed Feyre in the gut as she waited for Aelin’s reaction. Even after more a year and what seemed like the whole nation publicly discussing their relationship, Feyre couldn’t help but be slightly anxious about how people reacted to them as a couple. It would probably take her a while longer until she’d reach a point, where she’d not give a shit what people thought about her and her men. Right now, she wasn’t there yet, but she hoped, at one point she would.

But when her eyes connected with Aelin’s, the other woman gave her a huge smile. “That’s awesome! Are those your partners’ initials?”

She pointed to the sides of Feyre’s finger, where the ring design was interrupted on each side by a small, ornate letter−R for Rhys and L for Lucien.

“Ah, no, those are for when I get sloppy drunk and can’t tell right from left,” Feyre replied with a straight face.

Rhys protested loudly, while Lucien flashed Feyre one of his trademark sharp smiles. Aelin burst out laughing and even Rowan chuckled quietly.

“No honestly, these are great,” Aelin said, still laughing, but she went back to study Feyre’s finger. “Ro, why did we think about getting ring tattoos?”

Smiling, Feyre bend forward to look at the finished work herself. Two interconnected infinity loops expanded over the back of her knuckle. Contrary to a traditional infinity loop, the loops were uneven: the loop facing outside was bigger than the loop on the inside. Both infinity symbols mirrored each other, making them look like a double infinity loop. One for each of her partners. Where the loops intersected in the middle, the design created a tiny square, that was mirrored by an additional, larger square, cutting through the loops. And either side of the design was framed by an initial, so it was clear to everybody who cared, that Feyre did not have one, but two people to share her life with.

Looking at the finished work now, the pain she had had to endure was immediately forgotten. When she raised her head, she found Rhys looking at her with utter devotion.

“What do you say, darling, was it worth the pain?”

The question sounded innocent, but something in his voice and his eyes told Feyre, Rhys wasn’t only asking about the tattoo.

Feyre thought back to how she and Lucien met. The months of teasing and bullying each other, the taunts and snide and sometimes cruel remarks they subjected each other to, because they couldn’t admit to liking each other. The moment all the tension, attraction and pent-up frustration had finally boiled over and they had gone at each other in the conference room. Finding out, that Lucien had kept from her he was in a relationship with Rhys. The anguish and betrayal she had felt. How she had been torn between the two of them, unsure of her own feelings, of what was right and wrong. The anxiousness that came with being with the both of them at the same time. The longing and pining. The fear of her sisters’ judgement. The fear of her friends’ and colleagues’ judgement. And the moment, when her relationship had been dragged into the public eye, her life presented for all the world to see.

Had it been worth enduring all of that, just so she could be with Lucien and Rhys?

“Every damn second of it,” Feyre replied in earnest, putting all her love and adoration into her reply.

She was rewarded with a blinding, unrestrained smile and an ardent kiss. And then they both turned and smiled at Lucien, who hugged them both and accepted their kisses with a rare, soft smile.

“So,” Lucien said, clearing his throat. “Now that we got the tattoos out of the way−can we finally begin to make some babies?”

A change in the game: request to add players!


	34. Epilogue

Lucien’s lips brushed over Feyre’s sweaty neck and she suppressed the lustful shiver that was begging to break out by willing it away. She was not in the mood for sexy. And she was certainly not in the mood for Lucien.

Taking a step away from him, she threw him a scathing glare. “Don’t you dare touch me, Vanserra! Not now, nor ever again!”

Lucien’s grin was nothing short of wicked when he stalked her until she was pressed against the elevator wall and smoothed his hands over her tense shoulders and back.

“Aw, and why would I ever agree to something ridiculous like that, love?”

Despite his hands feeling glorious rubbing over the kinks in her back, Feyre slapped them away. She was pissed off and she couldn’t allow the sneaky fox to mollify her when she was rightfully indignated.

“Because you love me and it’s your fault I’m sweating and aching and feeling like shit, that’s why!”

Lucien gave her a very slow once over, his good eye burning with desire. “I love you and you look good enough to eat, my love.” Stepping closer again, he leaned into her and ran the tip of his nose over the shell of her ear before whispering softly, “In fact, the crankier and agitated you get, the more I want to stop this elevator right this very second and do very, very naughty things to you.”

Feyre hissed in frustration and shoved Lucien off her. “Get out of my personal space, Vanserra!”

He merely barked out a laugh, unimpressed at her outburst. “Never, love!”

The elevator pinged and announced their stop and Feyre stomped off, fuming. She swore, Lucien was becoming more and more like Rhys lately. It was unsettling. One cocky boyfriend she could handle, but two?

An unconcerned Lucien trailed behind her, following Feyre down the short hallway to their apartment. “Pray tell, love, what did I do again to put you in such a mood?”

Feyre came to a sudden stop and turned, pointing accusingly at the _corpus delicti_. Lucien’s gaze followed to where she was pointing, a smug look crossing his face. “Ah, well, I’m very sorry to inform you, but for _that_ , I refuse to feel bad for!”

Huffing, Feyre turned back around and dug out her keys from her purse, unlocking the front door. As soon as she offered him her back, Lucien plastered his whole length against it, catching her in a gentle embrace, and ran his hands possessively over her very pregnant belly.

“Don’t ask me to regret my babies, love.”

With a defeated sigh, Feyre leaned back against Lucien for a second. Then she pushed off him and entered their apartment. She needed to sit down, ASAP! Her back hurt, she was hangry as fuck and her feet were _killing_ her.

Lucien was still hot on her heels. Lately, fondling her baby bump was all he did. She couldn’t get away from him even if she tried. Which was equally adorable and infuriating, especially when he used every opportunity to wrap his lithe, hot body around her. With the sweltering heatwave they were experiencing lately, Feyre didn’t care for any additional heat. And her man was a furnace.

“It’s not that. I just thought it wouldn’t happen so soon. Especially after−”

The rest of her sentence got stuck in Feyre’s throat when she entered the living room and took in the scene that presented itself before her eyes. Rhys’ long, half-dressed body lay sprawled on the couch, wearing only jeans which hung dangerously low on his narrow waist. He was knocked out cold, snoring softly, his midnight hair an adorable mess, hanging into his forehead. Draped across his chest lay their infant daughter, her lips puckered and parted in sleep, her little hands curled into tiny fists lying on either side of her head.

Clutching her chest, Feyre took a deep breath, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of tenderness. Until this day, she couldn’t look at her baby without experiencing feelings of fierce love and subliminal anxiety at the same time. It scared the shit out of her. It also made her tear up almost instantly.

Firm hands at the small of her back steadied Feyre and then warm lips pressed against her temple.

“Look at them,” Lucien whispered in awe.

“I am,” Feyre whispered back, afraid to wake her other man and their daughter and disturb the peaceful picture in front of them.

“So fucking perfect!”

Feyre couldn’t help but agree. It had taken almost 4 years of Lucien’s gentle, but persistent badgering and Rhys’ restrained hopeful stares for Feyre to come to a place, where she was comfortable with the idea of becoming a mother. But much to their dismay and despite Lucien’s and Rhys’s combined best efforts, it had taken almost another 2 for them to finally get pregnant. The second she held her daughter in her arms or the first time, Feyre had wondered why the hell she had waited so long to meet this perfect little human that lay softly mewling on her chest.

Which didn’t keep Feyre from cursing out both Rhys and Lucien viciously when she found out that, mere 2 months after giving birth to their first child, her stupid boyfriends had managed to knock her up again—this time with twins. Her men had high-fived and then proceeded to kiss each other breathless, while Feyre had pleaded with the slightly confused OB to tell her, it was all some elaborate joke they had played on her. Not that they had actively prevented pregnancy, but somehow, Feyre hadn’t thought she’d end up pregnant again quite that fast.

“Let’s get you settled in the bedroom while I start dinner, love,” Lucien proposed softly. “Let them both sleep a bit longer.”

Feyre nodded her agreement, but just as they were to exit the room, Rina produced a whiny little sound and wiggled. Rhys’ eyes shot open in alarm and his hand came up to pat their baby on the back, rubbing it soothingly. He purred soft words at Rina and then finally noticed his partners in the open doorway. The brilliant smile he directed at them still had Feyre’s heart beat faster, even after all this time.

“Darling, babe!” Rhys greeted them, slowly sitting up while steadying their daughter against his naked chest. “How are my babies? What did the doctor say?”

“Seems like we're going to have more girls,” Feyre declared and unceremoniously flopped down on the couch next to Rhys.

She placed her tired feet on the coffee table and groaned in relief. Being pregnant was tiresome. Rhys face lit up like a firework and he handed Rina off to an eager Lucien, who, now that she was awake, proceeded to coo at and kiss his baby with abandon. With his arms free to hug Feyre, Rhys pull her into a kiss.

“That's wonderful,” he whispered against her lips.

“Please!” Feyre said grumpily and gently shoved him away. Another furnace., exactly what she needed! “You'd react the exact same way, if it were boys!”

“Or a boy and a girl,” Lucien threw in, gently rocking Rina in his arms. She made a happy gurgling sound back to him. “They are fraternal twins after all.”

“I wouldn't have minded a boy to be honest,” Feyre sighed while violently stuffing a pillow behind her back before leaning back against the couch.

She was tired and exhausted. This pregnancy was harder than the last one. The first trimester, she had puked so much, she lost way too much weight. She had slowly been gaining it back but carrying two children was way more exhausting than just one. And her belly was already obscenely large for 21 weeks. She knew, because her idiot boyfriends forced her to roll up her shirt every morning, so they could take a picture. They planned to make all pictures into a time-lapse video, as they had done for her first pregnancy.

Seeing her exhausted state, Rhys gently plucked Feyre's feet from the table and pulled them into his lap, massaging her feet. Feyre thanked him with a happy groan.

“We can try for a boy after the twins,” Lucien suggested.

Feyre's eyes had drifted close, but she snapped them open immediately. She was only halfway through her second pregnancy and the damn fox planned to knock her up again already?

“If you want more babies, you should consider dumping Rhys and getting another girlfriend. I only have one uterus,” Feyre snapped at Lucien.

He merely grinned. “Damn shame I love Rhys too much to dump him,” he retorted, tickling Rina under the chin. “Right blossom? We love daddy very much!”

Rina gooed and stretched her hands out towards Lucien’s face in an attempt to grab a strand of auburn hair that had snuck out of his ponytail. Rhys chuckled at them and Feyre couldn’t help the wave of tender feelings suddenly surging up again. As much as she complained about being pregnant, she loved her babies and their fathers very much.

“It would’ve been great if Lucien were a girl, so we would have had one additional womb,” Rhys joked. “Actually, now that I think about it, you would’ve been a real pretty woman, babe!”

Lucien ignored Rhys, continuing cooing at their daughter. “I take back everything I said, my little blossom. Daddy is an idiot. Let’s hope, you didn’t inherit his stupidity!”

Lucien was actually Rina’s biological father, but the three of them ignored that fact most of the time, joking how they wished the babies didn’t inherit certain traits from either of the fathers. Besides them, nobody knew who the biological father was, and they had decided to not tell outsiders if not strictly necessary. After all, they were both Rina's fathers. To them, it didn't matter which one the seed had come from.

Feyre laughed and felt one of the babies in her belly move animatedly. “One of the little ones agrees, fox! Although I must say, you really would’ve made a beautiful woman.”

“Enough to tempt you?”

Feyre’s lips curled into a bemused smirk. “Maybe?”

“But seeing that I’m the man in our relationship, it’s good I didn’t turn out a girl,” Lucien commented, returning his attention back to the baby in his arm.

Rhys and Feyre both snorted loudly. “Babe, you’re not the man in our relationship,” Rhys clarified. “Feyre is!”

Lucien looked like he wanted to protest, but then smiled−the edged smile Feyre loved so much. “That’s true.”

Rearranging the pillow behind her, Feyre allowed herself a satisfied smirk and then pushed her other foot into Rhys’ nimble fingers in a silent order. He followed suit with a wink and a smirk and Feyre sighed happily. Sometimes, being pregnant had its merits.

* * *

Feyre cried out as her orgasm hit her, clenching repeatedly around Lucien’s cock still buried deep inside of her.

“That’s it, love,” he breathed into her ear and then bit at her neck, continuing to rock into her from behind, the two of them settled on their sides. It took another minute for him to climax, a delicious minute that brought Feyre very close to a second orgasm.

Sighing contently, Lucien palmed one of Feyre's breasts−fuller now thanks to the pregnancy−and pressed a kiss to her sweaty neck as he pulled out. Feyre couldn’t reply−her mouth was locked with Rhys’, who had finished a while back, spilling himself into Feyre’s deft hands, and afterwards watched his partners go at it, giving out kisses like candies to the both of them.

Rhys hands softly caressed Feyre’s belly and he broke away with a little chuckle when he felt one of the babies move.

“Seems like mommy and daddy are not the only one enjoying the little workout,” he joked, turning Feyre on her back and crawling down her body to press his lips to her belly. And then Rhys’ lips traveled lower, dangerously low.

Not that Feyre minded. The pregnancy might have caused her to be more tired and exhausted than usual, but it also had kicked her already strong sex drive up several gears. Even weary and depleted as she was, Feyre was horny as hell−all the damn time.

Which suited her boyfriends fine, because they seemed to be turned on by her more than ever, unable to keep their hands to themselves. Apparently, seeing her heavy with child had made them lose all restraints; they couldn’t look at her without drooling and fondling her.

Feyre turned her face towards Lucien, going for a kiss just as Rhys’ wicked tongue was about to slip between her folds, when the babyphone blinked to life and filled their bedroom with anguished wails.

Rhys’ sighed and, much to Feyre’s dismay, abandoned his attempt to eat her out, raising himself from the bed. “I’ll go take a look.”

“She sounds hungry,” Lucien remarked, rising too. He had an uncanny ability to distinguish their baby’s cries. Or so he claimed.

“Stay babe!” Rhys said and leaned over Feyre to give Lucien a quick kiss. “You two clean up. You’re all sweaty! I’ll look check up on the little blossom.”

Feyre exhaled with relief. She was way too spent to get up. Rhys quickly pulled on some sweatpants and left,  and Lucien ducked into their en suite bathroom for a quick cleanup. When he returned, he handed Feyre a damp towel to wipe herself down with. She thanked him with a tired smile.

“Are you falling asleep, love?” Lucien asked, slipping on some pajama bottoms. Seemed like they were done for today.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, tossing the towel carelessly out of bed in the general direction of the bathroom.

Lucien crawled back into bed with a soft smile on his lips and handed Feyre an old oversized t-shirt that had once belonged to Rhys and that was her preferred sleepwear lately. The wailing had stopped, and they could hear Rhys’ soft purring over the babyphone.

“You think I should go−,” Lucien began but Feyre cut Lucien off with a look.

“He got this, fox, stop worrying. Also, soon you will have enough babies to keep us all perfectly occupied with feeding and changing diapers!” she scoffed, snuggling under the blanket. “You can take the next feeding shift in 4 hours,” Feyre added with a yawn.

Rina was a hungry baby, she would no doubt wake up once more again before morning.

Lucien grumbled sourly under his breath, but climbed into bed with her, pulling Feyre closer so her head rested on his shoulder. “Goodnight love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Feyre woke with a start, when she heard another whine. Lucien had fallen asleep too, but other than Feyre, he wasn’t cursed with the keen hearing a mother possessed that woke her even from the deepest slumber. Feyre raised her head and blinked around the room in confusion, trying to chase the sleep from her mind. The bed next to her, where Rhys usually slept, was empty, so he had either not come back or gone to check on Rina again. Over the babyphone, she could make out his voice.

Feyre was debating getting up and taking a look, but then the whine grew weaker. For a second, she thought Rhys had managed to calm Rina down, but then she heard another wail, coming from the hallway. Rhys appeared in the door, carrying a fussy baby with him.

“What?” Lucien jerked out of sleep, immediately alarmed.

“Sorry, it seems our little blossom doesn’t want to sleep alone. She’s protesting when I put her down,” Rhys apologized with a rueful little smile. “I can’t leave her to cry now, can I?”

“Really, you two are spoiling her rotten,” Feyre chided with a smile and held out her hands. “Give me my baby!”

Rhys handed over Rina to Feyre and the little girl stopped whining as soon as she was cradled against Feyre’s chest, snuggling into her boobs. With a sigh, Feyre lay back down, baby on her chest, softly stroking her back.

“Works every time,” Rhys chuckled.

“For me too,” Lucien added sleepily and then grumbled in protest, when Feyre smacked his thigh.

“We will need a bigger bed, if Sian and Gwyneth decide to take after their big sis and demand to sleep with us at night,” Feyre said with a yawn.

Rhys, who had just lifted the comforter to slip back into bed, froze. “What?”

Behind her, Lucien sat up, looking down at Feyre with big eyes.

Feyre smiled at Rhys. “Now that we know we’re having two girls, I thought we could name the babies Sian and Gwyneth? After your mother and sister!”

Rhys remained frozen, staring at Feyre. She was beginning to think her proposal had been a bad idea, when Lucien suddenly reached over Feyre and wiped away a tear from Rhys’ cheek that she hadn’t seen. It startled him out of his shock and he looked at Lucien’s hand, blinked, and then turned back to Feyre.

“You would… You would be willing to do that?” Rhys whispered in a chocked voice.

“Yeah, if you both don’t have any other sugge−”

She was cut off by Rhys leaning down and crushing his lips to hers in a desperate kiss. When he broke away, he inhaled raggedly and then turned to Lucien with hopeful eyes. Lucien just smiled and pulled him closer, resting his forehead against Rhys’.

“It’s perfect,” Lucien declared.

Rhys started bawling for real and Lucien had to climb over Feyre and Rina, so he could settle on Rhys’ other side and hug him to his chest. Spurred on by his crying, Rina started whining again, too. Hearing his daughter cry, Rhys detached from Lucien and lay down besides Feyre, peering into Rina’s little face.

“Did papa scare you, little blossom? I’m sorry. I’m just very happy, you see?” he hiccupped, cradling her head and caressing it in a soothing motion. Rina stopped crying and made big eyes at Rhys.

“Yes, you are right, blossom. I should stop crying,” he said, taking Rina’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to her palm.

Lucien lay down behind Rhys and snuggled up to him, his arms banding over Rhys’ chest, sharing a soft smile with Feyre.

“We need at least one boy, so we can name him after your father Feyre,” Rhys sniffled, slowly calming down.

“4 babies? You guys are definitely trying to kill me,” Feyre sighed, letting Rina slide from her chest between her and Rhys, turning to her side. “At least let me give birth to the ones I’m already carrying, before you plan for more.”

“I want more than 4,” Lucien piped up cheerfully. “I told you, I want a team!”

“Baseball or Soccer?” Rhys inquired, craning his neck to look at Lucien.

“Soccer of course!” Lucien bend down to kiss away Rhys’ tears. “The more the merrier.”

Feyre huffed a humorless laugh. She was 34, there was no way she would bear another 8 healthy children. “6 children max. After all, we only have 6 arms between us. Two children per parent to hold on to. If you want more, get another wife.”

Lucien had the audacity to look disappointed and Rhys chuckled and then sniffled, bending down to pepper Rina’s face with kisses. She gurgled happily and grabbed at his face.

“I love you, my little blossom,” Rhys crooned to her and she looked at him with big eyes before she smiled a toothless baby smile. Then he leaned over her and raised Feyre’s t-shirt, so he could kiss her baby bump. “And I love you, my little flowerbuds! I’m very excited to meet you soon.”

Feyre felt tears welling up in her eyes and blinked them hastily away. Straightening, Rhys gazed fondly at her through teary eyes.

“I love you, Feyre darling. Thank you for giving me this wonderful gift that are our daughters and every future child you are willing to give us. Even if you decide you want to stop after three.”

Rhys leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Feyre couldn’t help it, she sobbed and cried a bit, pressing her palm against Rhys’ tear stained cheek as their mouths slid against each other. He smiled at her when he pulled back and then turned to Lucien, who also looked suspiciously teary-eyed.

“I love you Lucien. And I am beyond happy we get to share this love, this gift, and our life with each other. So let’s not ruin it with silly demands and fixed ideas.”

They shared a deep, loving kiss and Feyre saw a tear fall from Lucien’s eyes. A small hand suddenly patted at her face and Feyre flinched, catching her daughter’s hand before she could poke out her eyes.

Feyre laughed and rubbed Rina’s tummy. “That’s right, we all need to stop crying and go to sleep. It’s time for little flowers to close their blossoms for the night.”

Hearing her, Rhys and Lucien broke apart.

“Come here,” Rhys chuckled and cradled their baby against his chest. Smiling, Lucien sat up and reached out for Feyre, who propped herself up on her elbow, so they could share a quick kiss.

“I love you, fox,” Feyre whispered against his lips.

He sighed happily. “Yeah, me too, love. And sometimes, I still think I don’t deserve it.”

“No you don’t. I love you anyways!” Feyre flashed Lucien a wicked smile.

He returned her smile and then bit her lip playfully, making Feyre laugh. Still bubbling with laughter, she lay down, snuggling up to Rina and Rhys, while Lucien spooned Rhys from behind. He reached out for Feyre and they interlaced their fingers, letting their hands rest on their baby’s back, where Rhys covered their hands with his.

With a happy smile and a sigh, Feyre closed her eyes, already excited to wake to another, beautiful morning.

All levels cleared! Congratulations! You have won the game!


	35. Bonus Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a little thank you to all of you, who kept following this story, be it quietly or loudly, I wrote a little bonus epilogue for you!   
> I hope, you enjoy!  
> Thank you for reading and all your support for this story!  
> Kisses to all of you,  
> Linda

“Pack the sand in. Really much!”

Gwynnie and Siannie nod and put more sand into my bucket. When the bucket is full, I pat the sand with my hands, so it is nice and firm like papa Rhys showed me when we went to the _bee-tch._

“Pat pat!” I tell my sisters and they help me pat the sand.

When the sand is nice and firm, we turn the bucket over. Now we have a nice sand tower. Gwynnie holds up her hands and laughs. Siannie takes the bucket and fills it with more sand. We are going to make a nice big tower and show mommy and our papas and then they going to tell us, how proud they are.

“Rina! Sian! Gwyneth!”

I look up and see mommy coming towards us. But she is smaller than mommy. Where is the big tummy mommy had this morning? I gasp, because it’s not mommy, it’s auntie!

“Auntie Nes!” I shout and run to her.

Behind auntie, uncle Cass waves at us. When Siannie sees him, she cries her battle cry and runs to uncle Cass at full speed, trying to tackle him. He laughs and catches her, swinging her around. Gwynnie bursts into tears when she sees that auntie Nes and uncle Call are not mommy and papa Rhys. Gwynnie is a papas’ girl. She doesn’t like anyone but papa Rhys and papa Lucien.

“Auntie Nes, are you picking us up?” I ask, looking up to her. Auntie Nes looks a lot like mommy. She’s really beautiful. And a bit scary. But I love her a lot. Especially, when she smiles at me a bit. She does now. She only ever smiles at me or uncle Cass.

“Yes, we are. Your mother went into labor earlier this morning and your fathers asked us to pick you up and bring you home. Be a good girl and take your sisters to say goodbye to your teachers Rina.”

I don’t understand what auntie Nes means with _labor_ but I nod and go to Gwynnie in the sandbox, who is still crying, and take her hand. Auntie Nes talks to me like an adult and that’s why I love her. She takes me seriously. And I’m the oldest, I’m almost 5, so I have to be serious. Auntie Nes is the oldest too. I want to be her, when I grow up.

“Come Gwynnie, we are going home.”

“Where are papa and papa?” she sobs. Her nose is running.

“At home. Mama went into _labor_ ,” I say.

That stops her crying. “What is _lay-bor_ , Rina?” she asks, looking at me with big eyes. She has pretty blue eyes like papa Rhys, but her hair looks like mommy’s. My hair is dark and my eyes are brown, like papa Lucien’s.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Let’s go and see!”

Gwynnie nods and we run to our kindergarden teacher, who is standing by the jungle gym, talking to another adult.

“My mommy went into _lay-bor_ and I need to go home,” Gwynnie shouts up to her.

The teacher looks at us with big eyes and then smiles. “Oh my! That’s wonderful! Better hurry home then!”

Auntie Nes comes up behind us and softly pushed us towards the classroom. “Let’s get your stuff. Goodbye, Ms. Turner!” she says to my teacher.

I look around for Siannie. She is shy around people, so I need to look out for her and make sure she is alright. She is climbing uncle Cass like a monkey and trying to bite his ear. He laughs and puts her on her feet. Siannie is not shy around uncle Cass.

I tug Gwynnie over to Siannie and uncle Cass and take her hand. “Come Siannie, we need to go home. Mommy went into _labor_ ,” I say. I feel very important.

“What does that mean?” Siannie asks with a frown.

“It means, your mommy gave birth to your little brother,” uncle Cass explains.

We all scream excited.

“Our brother?” Gwynnie cries.

“Our baby has come?” Siannie cries louder.

My heart start beating really fast. We have been waiting for the baby to come. Papa Lucien has told me, we would have a new baby very soon and it was a boy and I have only sisters, so having a boy is nice!

“Wonderful. You couldn’t have waited to tell them, could you?” auntie Nes sighs and looks at uncle Cass with her scary eyes. Mommy can do scary eyes too, mostly at papa Lucien. “Now they are all excited.”

“Hey, they asked!” uncle Cass shrugged.

Auntie Nes is right, I’m very excited, so I dance around with Siannie and Gwynnie. “When can we see the baby?” I ask.

“When we get home. Now get your things,” auntie Nes says.

Sianny, Gwynnie and I race to the hangers and get our rucksacks. Because we were playing outside, we don’t have to change shoes.

The drive home takes very long, because I’m very _im-patient_ , as mommy always says. I’m bouncing in my seat a lot. Siannie and Gwynnie bounce too, until auntie Nes snaps at us and tells us to stop, which is mean, because uncle Call was bouncing too, but auntie Nes didn’t tell him to stop. I pout at him and he winks at me. Meanie!

When we reach home, we run very fast to the elevator, but we have to wait for auntie Nes to push the button, because we are too small to reach it. And then we run very quickly to the front door. Auntie Nes shouts something after us, but we don’t listen. We want to see the baby!

Because we are too small to ring the bell, we knock on the front door, but nobody opens.

“Really, you little monsters couldn’t wait?” auntie Nes scolds softly and takes out the key to open the door.

But then the door opens before auntie can put the key in and papa Lucien grins down at us. “Hello there, my little flowers! Someone seems to be eager!”

Sianny and I shout excited, asking about the baby, but Gwynnie starts crying again when she sees papa and hugs his legs.

Papa clicks his tongue and picks her up. “Why are you crying, little blossom? Did you miss me?”

Gwynnie nods and presses her face to papa’s, smooching him. Papa Lucien laughs and then turns back to us. “Do you want to see your little brother?”

Siannie and I nod eagerly and follow papa to the bedroom.

“Look who’s here,” papa announces when he enters.

Mommy and papa Rhys sit on the bed, mommy is holding the baby. She looks tired, but she’s smiling at us.

Papa Rhys beckon’s us closer with a big happy smile. “Come here, little flowers!”

We run to the bed and papa helps me and Siannie up on the bed. Papa Lucien comes over with Gwynnie still in his arms and sits down next to papa Rhys. Gwynnie mewls and holds her hands out to papa Rhys, who laughs at her and cuddles her, until she stops crying. As I said−papas’ girl.

“Say hello to your brother,” mommy says with a little smile and holds out one arms to us. Carefully, I crawl a bit closer and snuggle against mommy’s side, looking at the baby.

“So small,” Siannie whispers.

I nod. My brother is tiny. And a bit ugly. Very red and angry looking. I tell mommy and she laughs.

“He’ll look a bit better soon,” she promises me.

“Holy fu−dge, I always forget how big this bed is,” uncle Cass suddenly barks. Auntie Nes slaps his chest.

“Try fitting three grownups and 4 babies into one bed, and you want to have a bed this size too,” papa Rhys laughs.

“Don’t your children have their own room? With their own bed?” auntie Nes says. She makes scary eyes at papa Rhys. Gwynnie, who still sits in his lap, quickly hides her face in his shirt. Auntie Nes doesn’t like papa Rhys very much. But she loves me, so it’s okay.

“They do,” papa Lucien says. “But they refuse to sleep in them. So we had to order this monstrosity.” He pats our bed. It is bigger than a normal bed and I love it. We all fit in it.

Siannie grins up at papa Lucien and then crawls over into his lap. “Sleeping with papa and papa and mommy is more fun,” she declares, squishing papa Lucien’s face between her hands.

Papa Rhys and uncle Cassian laugh and mommy sighs.

Uncle Cassian comes over and looks at the baby. “Can I hold him?”

Mommy holds my brother out to uncle Cass and he takes him. He looks even more tiny, when uncle Cass is holding him, because he is so big. Mommy’s arms are now free, so she gives me a proper hug and a kiss.

“Hello, little blossom. Have you taken good care of your sisters today?”

I nod and look up to her. “Yes. You look tired mommy. Are you unwell?”

Mommy smiles. She’s really beautiful when she smiles. “Aw, you’re such a sweetheart Rina. Yes, I am a bit tired. Having a baby is very exhausting,” she explains.

“Making a baby too,” papa Rhys whispers to papa Lucien. Mommy makes her scary eyes at them and they snicker.

“Have you decided on a name,” uncle Cass asks, looking at my brother. Auntie Nes is standing next to him, smiling at the baby, although he is a bit ugly. I am a bit jealous, because she smiles at him, but I forgive him. Because I’m the eldest and he is my little brother and I have to take care of him.

“Yeah,” papa Lucien says. “We think Carl would me a good name.”

“Or Larc,” papa Rhys adds.

Uncle Cassian looks at my papas with wide eyes and doesn’t say anything for a while. Auntie Nes looks shocked.

“Wife,” uncle Cassian finally says, “you take the girls, I’ll take the baby. Don’t bother with clothes, we need to get them out as fast as possible. Hurry to the car as quickly as you can, lock yourself inside, and call child protection services. We can’t leave the kids with these people! It might be too late for your sister, but at least we can save the kids!”

Auntie Nesta snorts and mommy and my papas start laughing. I laugh too, although I don’t understand why we are laughing.

“No seriously, what’s with those names?” uncle Cassian shouts over the laughter.

“C.A.R.L.” mommy says, “Cassian, Azriel, Rhys and Lucien. Makes a good name, no?”

Uncle Cass opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks like a fish. “Feyre, sis, I’m honored. But I still can’t leave this child in your care, if you threaten to name him Carl. I simply can’t! That’s abuse and you know it!”

Mommy laughs. “Okay. No Carl then.”

Uncle Cassian sighs in relief, which makes my papas laugh again. Auntie Nes takes the baby from uncle Cass and rocks him in her arms.

“So, what’s his name then. Or did you not decide yet?” Uncle Cass asks.

Mommy shares a look with papa Lucien and papa Rhys. “We will name him Jesper,” she announced.

Auntie Nes’ head snaps up. “Jasper? For dad?” she asks. Her voice is very tiny.

“Not exactly. Jesper with e. For Lucien’s late finacée, Jes. And, yeah, for dad, too.”

Auntie Nes and mommy stare at each other. Auntie’s eyes are a bit teary. Then she nods and looks at my brother. She gives him a little smile and then comes to the bed and gives him back to mommy, who lets go of me to take the Jesper.

“He’s beautiful. Dad would be proud. Of all of them,” auntie Nes says and runs a hand over my head. I smile up to her and she smiles back.

“Thanks, Nes.” Mommy sounds like she’s crying, but when I look at her, her eyes are dry.

“So big sis, what do you say. You like the name?” papa Rhys asks me.

I nod.

“And you, little ones. What do you say?” papa Lucien asks Siannie and Gwynnie.

“I’m not little anymore!” Siannie declared. “I’m a big sis now, too!”

“Yes, you are,” papa Lucien says.

Gwynnie shakes her head. “I don’t wanna be a big sis. I wanna be papas’ bride!”

“Which papa?” uncle Cassian asks.

Gwynnie looks at papa Lucien and papa Rhys and then starts crying, because she can’t decide.

“Now you’ve done it,” auntie Nesta sighs and my papas and mommy laugh again.

I crawl over to papa Rhys and Gwynnie and pat her head. “You can be both papa Lucien and papa Rhys’ bride!”

Gwynnie stops crying and looks at me. “Really?”

“Mommy is both their bride, too!” I point out. But you also are a big sis, because Jesper is smaller than we are.”

“So I will be a big sis like you?” Gwynnie asks.

I nod.

“Okay!” Gwynnie says and grins.

I give her a smooch on the forehead, like my papas have taught me. “I got you, Gwynnie,” I say, because papa Lucien always says that to mommy, when she is upset and crying. Papa Rhys gives me a big smile and looks really proud and behind us, mommy sobs.

“Can you teach me to be a big sis, too?” Siannie asks.

I crawl over to her and papa Lucien and smooch her forehead too. “Sure. I got you too, Siannie!”

“Oh my god!” mommy whispers and then she cries, but she is smiling too. Just to make sure she isn’t hurting, I crawl to her and give her a kiss too. “I got you mommy! And papa Lucien and papa Rhys got you too. And Siannie and Gwynnie, because their big sisters now, too!”

“Yeah, you do blossom!” she says, and kisses be back.

Gwynnie wiggles off papa’s lap and crawls to mommy, giving mommy a kiss on the forehead. Siannie does the same. And then they snuggle up to mommy and look at our brother. Papa Lucien opens his arms and I climb into his lap. Papa hugs me very tight and kisses my forehead.

“Good girl,” he whispers softly.

I grin and snuggle deeper into his arms. I love my family very much.


End file.
